Friday kicked off with my first ever Pro 20 cricket experience. A couple of peeps from work, all dressed in the obligatory yellow (except for Mr Spencer) took a mosey down to Wanderers to enjoy the Lions vs Cobras in the Pro 20 final (Is that what the teams are called?). Great fun – got to do the Mexican wave, jump around a bit, perv over the photographer with binoculars – all good.
Saturday spent the day with the folks after drinks with Kdog were cancelled on account of the miff weather. Then headed off to Kay and Aye for wine and then onto The Knee, which was on very poor form on account of the cricket (definitely cricket overkill for one weekend). Called it a night after one very quick jam to Mika's Grace Kelly, and an SMS from Broken Arm at 10pm asking what my plans were for the evening… I mean honestly, 10pm!?!?! The boy is completely socially inept. The Ron reckons Broken Arm is an alien.
Sunday was spent having lunch and a good chat with Mr Spencer – followed by the greatest afternoon nap of all time. Dreamt I was in Switzerland.
Then headed off for Sunday night pizza with The Ron, his girlf and another couple. Ended up having a deep theological conversation about religion, the meaning of life and whether green hunting is ethical. Managed to ward off the Sunday blues completely. Fabulous.
Being the fifth wheel at dinner last night, I watched the two couples interacting and realised how much I want that. The cute exchanges, mingled with the light-hearted ripping off. Realised that there is no way in a million years I'd ever be able to reach that kind of comfort level with Broken Arm – you can't force that kind of connection. So basically, I know I should cut off all contact with him and forget about the possibility of the two of us ever working out in any way…
...Until of course I'm drunk at Manhattan again.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Song of the moment...
Starlight by Muse
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to re-ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive
But I'll never let you go
If you promised not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
And I'll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to re-ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive
But I'll never let you go
If you promised not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold you in my arms
Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die
And I'll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Friday, March 23, 2007
Cyber reality caving in on me
This world just keeps getting smaller and smaller… and it all started so innocently with MySpace.
I saw something on Dr Phil a couple of months back about MySpace and thought to myself – "I should get me one of those!" (As we all know, all fantastic ideas start with something we saw on Dr Phil) So I logged on and set up a little page. Knowing absolutely nothing about html and such things, it all looked pretty basic. Regardless, I felt pretty content and clued up on the cyber happenings of 2007.
Then a couple of weeks later, The Luce piped up about Facebook. I had never heard of it before, but as it turns out, it's pretty much like MySpace without the bells and whistles. So, again, not wanting to be left out the party, I set up another little page.
I started browsing around Facebook – and discovered that everyone can see the amount of friends you have. From a fun way to kill time at work, it had turned into a popularity contest!
I was not prepared for this at all.
I managed to accumulate about two friends (one of them being The Luce) when something popped up informing me that my Ex Boyfriend No. 4 wanted to add me as a friend. Crap! Now he knows that I only have two friends!!! I frantically began to e-mail my friends, begging them to sign up on Facebook, but they all turned out not to be as Internet savvy and decided it was all too much hard work.
So now I was sitting with two friends and an ex boyfriend. It was all too much and I decide to log back onto my old, trusty, less complicated friend, MySpace. Nothing could prepare me for what was awaiting me there…
1 new e-mail!
From Ex Boyfriend No. 3 – the cosmopolitan drinking, pink Renault driving, Erasure listening raging metrosexual. Not only had he found me on MySpace, but he had then googled me and e-mailed me at work.
All I could think was "Darn you Dr Phil!!!!"
As the cyber world began caving in on me – I found myself becoming more and more addicted…I realised, I was a quick mouse click away from finding out exactly who Ex Boyfriend No.4 was dating (who happens to be his ex girlfriend, for the record), who was hanging out with who, where they were going, who had lost weight and more importantly, who had put on weight.
But is this all a good thing?? Sometimes falling out of touch with people is actually okay… sometimes even downright fabulous. We are now permanently connected to a network of people who, despite what Facebook says, probably aren't our friends at all.
As crazy as it seems – the (somewhat) anonymous activity of blogging probably does more to bring people closer together than the multitude of networking tools that are at our disposal.
So rock on blogging rock stars – and have a fabulous weekend!
I saw something on Dr Phil a couple of months back about MySpace and thought to myself – "I should get me one of those!" (As we all know, all fantastic ideas start with something we saw on Dr Phil) So I logged on and set up a little page. Knowing absolutely nothing about html and such things, it all looked pretty basic. Regardless, I felt pretty content and clued up on the cyber happenings of 2007.
Then a couple of weeks later, The Luce piped up about Facebook. I had never heard of it before, but as it turns out, it's pretty much like MySpace without the bells and whistles. So, again, not wanting to be left out the party, I set up another little page.
I started browsing around Facebook – and discovered that everyone can see the amount of friends you have. From a fun way to kill time at work, it had turned into a popularity contest!
I was not prepared for this at all.
I managed to accumulate about two friends (one of them being The Luce) when something popped up informing me that my Ex Boyfriend No. 4 wanted to add me as a friend. Crap! Now he knows that I only have two friends!!! I frantically began to e-mail my friends, begging them to sign up on Facebook, but they all turned out not to be as Internet savvy and decided it was all too much hard work.
So now I was sitting with two friends and an ex boyfriend. It was all too much and I decide to log back onto my old, trusty, less complicated friend, MySpace. Nothing could prepare me for what was awaiting me there…
1 new e-mail!
From Ex Boyfriend No. 3 – the cosmopolitan drinking, pink Renault driving, Erasure listening raging metrosexual. Not only had he found me on MySpace, but he had then googled me and e-mailed me at work.
All I could think was "Darn you Dr Phil!!!!"
As the cyber world began caving in on me – I found myself becoming more and more addicted…I realised, I was a quick mouse click away from finding out exactly who Ex Boyfriend No.4 was dating (who happens to be his ex girlfriend, for the record), who was hanging out with who, where they were going, who had lost weight and more importantly, who had put on weight.
But is this all a good thing?? Sometimes falling out of touch with people is actually okay… sometimes even downright fabulous. We are now permanently connected to a network of people who, despite what Facebook says, probably aren't our friends at all.
As crazy as it seems – the (somewhat) anonymous activity of blogging probably does more to bring people closer together than the multitude of networking tools that are at our disposal.
So rock on blogging rock stars – and have a fabulous weekend!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The Rules
Thursday is date night with Broken Arm. After yet another drunken Madhatter hook-up on Saturday night, Broken Arm took the initiative to sms and ask me to go bowling with him this week.
This morning I arrived at the office and updated my dear colleagues, Mr Spencer and The Luce, on the latest developments in my social life. It was at this point that I was informed of ‘THE RULES’…
The Rules – as stated by Mr Spencer and The Luce:
1) Always end the date first
2) Never initiate contact
3) Never return phone calls
4) Never accept a date without being given due notice
5) Never ever appear available at any time
Now, I partly agree with number 2 and number 4 – but I think, at the same time, there is something to be said for spontaneity and going with the flow. Some of the best dates of my life are the result of a last minute decision to meet up and have involved talking until the sun comes up.
I suppose it all comes down to the idea of ‘the chase’ – and I do completely agree that there’s something unnatural about the woman being the chaser rather than the chasee. But where should we draw the line? And is there a difference between playing by the rules and playing games?
Thoughts anyone?
This morning I arrived at the office and updated my dear colleagues, Mr Spencer and The Luce, on the latest developments in my social life. It was at this point that I was informed of ‘THE RULES’…
The Rules – as stated by Mr Spencer and The Luce:
1) Always end the date first
2) Never initiate contact
3) Never return phone calls
4) Never accept a date without being given due notice
5) Never ever appear available at any time
Now, I partly agree with number 2 and number 4 – but I think, at the same time, there is something to be said for spontaneity and going with the flow. Some of the best dates of my life are the result of a last minute decision to meet up and have involved talking until the sun comes up.
I suppose it all comes down to the idea of ‘the chase’ – and I do completely agree that there’s something unnatural about the woman being the chaser rather than the chasee. But where should we draw the line? And is there a difference between playing by the rules and playing games?
Thoughts anyone?
Saturday, March 10, 2007
MsMozi in Paris
So I've returned from the City of Lights - a little confused and disorientated. I made half an attempt of keeping record of events as the unfolded - so here it is: MsMozi in Paris (uncensored)
Tuesday March 6, 2007
I love flying. I've been in the air for about three hours... I think, but kinda hard to say as I've already managed a cocktail of motion sickness pills + mini-bottle savignon blanc + mini bottle JC Le Roux + altitude. Excellent combination. I highly recommend it to anyone planning to jet off somewhere exotic in the near future.
So, as predicted, no attractive stranger sitting next to me - no wait, let me correct myself, no attractive male stranger sitting next to me. The French girl sitting next to me looks like Milla Jovovich - so it seems as though I've gotten someone elses karma. The man sitting in front of me was certainly meant to be next to me - every once in a while he lets out a turbulence-enducing snore.
The only complaint thus far is the absence of personal tv screens... seriously... what is that all about?! Shared screens are so apallingly 80s. When I sat down I started frantically trying to lift my armrest and tray table, expecting to find a hidden fold out screen. But alas - to no avail.
.... (This is where my plane-cocktail took effect and I passed out, bringing this entry to an end)
Thursday March 8, 2007
So in true genius mode, after breakfast at the hotel, I looked at the time on my cellphone and bolted out into a taxi to make it to the SA Tourism even in time. Forgetting, of course, that my cellphone was still set on South African time. Realised halfway to the River Seine that I was an hour too early - so now I sit, sipping a cafe au lait in a tabac - a good chance to catch up on my day yesterday.
Arrived at Charles de Gaulle and was met by mass confusion. Quite ironic as I met a South African woman at OR Tambo and her and I were laughing at the German tourists who couldn't work out what was potting at the airport. On the other side, it was her and I feeling the language barrier. "Quell amusement! J'aime du sport advonteur" was not going to get me through this one. Eventually made my way through, found my taxi and headed off to my hotel just off the Champs d'Elysee.
The 20 degree drop in temperature is definitely substantial, but aside from that, Paris is gorgeous. It is probably one of the best cities to travel alone to. I keep feeling as though I'm in a movie.
The lifestyle over here is probably as different as you can find to Jozi. Everyone is dressed in sleek black, walking around with purpose, iPod in ears, cigarette in mouth and cellphone clamped firmly to ear. I've smoked so many cigarettes that I've lost track. I love this city.
Yesterday afternoon I decided to hit the streets. Absolutely walked my ass off. Discovered that apparently I'm hot in Paris - got accosted by three different men within five minutes of leaving my hotel. And then men here are hot. Walked all the way down the Champs d'Elysee to the Louvre. Spent about an hour there and felt totally overwhelmed so I headed back to the streets.
By the end of the day I was completely exhausted. Couldn't fathom the thought of taking even one more step so I ordered room service and a movie and took to my super comfy Hilton bed.
I always tend to get homesick extremely quickly when I'm overseas, and my activities for today will be sure to bring it on even quicker than usual. The whole day is dedicated to the wonder of SA - rose-tinted glasses and all. SA Tourism is promoting the country to the French travel trade, so I'm preparing myself to get a little worked up. I know it sounds ridiculous, as this trip is so short, but I love SA so deeply that being away, even for a few days, can sometimes be hard for me. It's hard when home is heaven on earth.
Saturday March 10, 2007
Thursday ended up being really hectic. After over 24 hours of not being able to have a coherent conversation with someone, it started getting to me a little. When the event started, I heard a guy speaking with a South African accent and was so relieved that I practically pounced on him. Robbo will be his name for the purposes of my blog, and luckily he was just as recieved to be able to talk to someone. Robbo for the ad agency that has the SA Tourism account and we got along really well - especially since he reminded me a little of Mr Spencer.
I won't go into any detail on the event itself, for fear of losing my job - but it was... interesting.
My final hours in Paris were spent running (literally running) through Paris with Robbo being total tourists. We managed to fit in a trip to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, Grande Palais, Petit Palais, Bibliotek National, lunch and wine - all in about 3 hours.
So all round it was a great couple of days - and it's still good to be home. Felt completely disorientated for most of the day, but now starting to feel a little more normal. Quell amusement!
Tuesday March 6, 2007
I love flying. I've been in the air for about three hours... I think, but kinda hard to say as I've already managed a cocktail of motion sickness pills + mini-bottle savignon blanc + mini bottle JC Le Roux + altitude. Excellent combination. I highly recommend it to anyone planning to jet off somewhere exotic in the near future.
So, as predicted, no attractive stranger sitting next to me - no wait, let me correct myself, no attractive male stranger sitting next to me. The French girl sitting next to me looks like Milla Jovovich - so it seems as though I've gotten someone elses karma. The man sitting in front of me was certainly meant to be next to me - every once in a while he lets out a turbulence-enducing snore.
The only complaint thus far is the absence of personal tv screens... seriously... what is that all about?! Shared screens are so apallingly 80s. When I sat down I started frantically trying to lift my armrest and tray table, expecting to find a hidden fold out screen. But alas - to no avail.
.... (This is where my plane-cocktail took effect and I passed out, bringing this entry to an end)
Thursday March 8, 2007
So in true genius mode, after breakfast at the hotel, I looked at the time on my cellphone and bolted out into a taxi to make it to the SA Tourism even in time. Forgetting, of course, that my cellphone was still set on South African time. Realised halfway to the River Seine that I was an hour too early - so now I sit, sipping a cafe au lait in a tabac - a good chance to catch up on my day yesterday.
Arrived at Charles de Gaulle and was met by mass confusion. Quite ironic as I met a South African woman at OR Tambo and her and I were laughing at the German tourists who couldn't work out what was potting at the airport. On the other side, it was her and I feeling the language barrier. "Quell amusement! J'aime du sport advonteur" was not going to get me through this one. Eventually made my way through, found my taxi and headed off to my hotel just off the Champs d'Elysee.
The 20 degree drop in temperature is definitely substantial, but aside from that, Paris is gorgeous. It is probably one of the best cities to travel alone to. I keep feeling as though I'm in a movie.
The lifestyle over here is probably as different as you can find to Jozi. Everyone is dressed in sleek black, walking around with purpose, iPod in ears, cigarette in mouth and cellphone clamped firmly to ear. I've smoked so many cigarettes that I've lost track. I love this city.
Yesterday afternoon I decided to hit the streets. Absolutely walked my ass off. Discovered that apparently I'm hot in Paris - got accosted by three different men within five minutes of leaving my hotel. And then men here are hot. Walked all the way down the Champs d'Elysee to the Louvre. Spent about an hour there and felt totally overwhelmed so I headed back to the streets.
By the end of the day I was completely exhausted. Couldn't fathom the thought of taking even one more step so I ordered room service and a movie and took to my super comfy Hilton bed.
I always tend to get homesick extremely quickly when I'm overseas, and my activities for today will be sure to bring it on even quicker than usual. The whole day is dedicated to the wonder of SA - rose-tinted glasses and all. SA Tourism is promoting the country to the French travel trade, so I'm preparing myself to get a little worked up. I know it sounds ridiculous, as this trip is so short, but I love SA so deeply that being away, even for a few days, can sometimes be hard for me. It's hard when home is heaven on earth.
Saturday March 10, 2007
Thursday ended up being really hectic. After over 24 hours of not being able to have a coherent conversation with someone, it started getting to me a little. When the event started, I heard a guy speaking with a South African accent and was so relieved that I practically pounced on him. Robbo will be his name for the purposes of my blog, and luckily he was just as recieved to be able to talk to someone. Robbo for the ad agency that has the SA Tourism account and we got along really well - especially since he reminded me a little of Mr Spencer.
I won't go into any detail on the event itself, for fear of losing my job - but it was... interesting.
My final hours in Paris were spent running (literally running) through Paris with Robbo being total tourists. We managed to fit in a trip to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, Grande Palais, Petit Palais, Bibliotek National, lunch and wine - all in about 3 hours.
So all round it was a great couple of days - and it's still good to be home. Felt completely disorientated for most of the day, but now starting to feel a little more normal. Quell amusement!
Monday, March 5, 2007
Is this seat taken?
So my bags are packed and I’m almost ready to go… just waiting on that darn visa, which will hopefully be in my possession tomorrow morning. Lucky for me, Mr Spencer (aka D) has taught me some French, will be sure to get me out of any tricky situation – “Quell amusement! J’aime du sport advonteur!” which translated means “What fun! I love adventure sports”. Brilliant.
I’ve only just started getting used to the idea of travelling solo – and this will be my first international trip by my lonesome. Although a single girl jetting off on her ace to France sounds like something out of Marion Keyes novel – I’ve learnt that this is never how things actually turn out.
Take flying for example… Darryl Bristow-Bovey had a chapter in his book ‘The Naked Bachelor’ about flying and the attractive stranger (Note that I actually mention that I read about this concept in his book – very un-Darryl Bristow-Bovey-like behaviour!).
Every time I fly alone, I take my seat and watch the passengers as they file through the aisles looking for their row. And every time – with endless optimism – I see one or two attractive strangers and believe, even if it’s only for a split second, that one of them will be sitting next to me. Then I see him – the overweight 60-something alcoholic with BO whose eyes light up as he shuffles through the aisle and squeezes in next to me.
This has been my pattern for every flight I’ve ever been on – with the exception of one trip…
It was last year - I had just been on a media trip from Joburg to CT on the Blue Train and was flying back home. I was feeling a little disorientated after the motion of the train – and I’m not a great flyer at the best of times, so I knew that I wasn’t going to be in a good place at several thousand feet above sea level.
So I took my seat… and then I saw them moving through the aisles. It was a group of models flying from CT to JHB and then onto Zanzibar for a photo shoot. Next to me was the most gorgeous male model I had ever seen – he was American with dark hair and dark eyes and a ‘fall-over-and-die-from-the-sheer-fabulousness-of-it-all’ body. Across the aisle from me was another model that made the one right next to me look like an average Joe.
Finally… my day had come.
And then we took off… and I started to feel distinctly dodgy. It was at this precise moment that the beautiful man next to me decided to try and make conversation. All I could think was “Don’t throw up over the beautiful man… don’t throw up over the beautiful man” – which isn’t exactly conducive to witty and suggestive banter. I had no choice but to put on my iPod, close my eyes, and pretend I was far, far away from the intensely unfair reality of my situation.
I somehow managed to get through the flight without upchucking over the American model – but I know for sure, that was the only ‘attractive stranger on a plane’ experience I’ll ever have. That kind of thing could never happen twice. So wish me luck for my 12 hours of being squished by a skanky, snoring, drunken old man en route to Paris – but at least there’s a pain au chocolat and the Eiffel Tower waiting for me on the other side!
I’ve only just started getting used to the idea of travelling solo – and this will be my first international trip by my lonesome. Although a single girl jetting off on her ace to France sounds like something out of Marion Keyes novel – I’ve learnt that this is never how things actually turn out.
Take flying for example… Darryl Bristow-Bovey had a chapter in his book ‘The Naked Bachelor’ about flying and the attractive stranger (Note that I actually mention that I read about this concept in his book – very un-Darryl Bristow-Bovey-like behaviour!).
Every time I fly alone, I take my seat and watch the passengers as they file through the aisles looking for their row. And every time – with endless optimism – I see one or two attractive strangers and believe, even if it’s only for a split second, that one of them will be sitting next to me. Then I see him – the overweight 60-something alcoholic with BO whose eyes light up as he shuffles through the aisle and squeezes in next to me.
This has been my pattern for every flight I’ve ever been on – with the exception of one trip…
It was last year - I had just been on a media trip from Joburg to CT on the Blue Train and was flying back home. I was feeling a little disorientated after the motion of the train – and I’m not a great flyer at the best of times, so I knew that I wasn’t going to be in a good place at several thousand feet above sea level.
So I took my seat… and then I saw them moving through the aisles. It was a group of models flying from CT to JHB and then onto Zanzibar for a photo shoot. Next to me was the most gorgeous male model I had ever seen – he was American with dark hair and dark eyes and a ‘fall-over-and-die-from-the-sheer-fabulousness-of-it-all’ body. Across the aisle from me was another model that made the one right next to me look like an average Joe.
Finally… my day had come.
And then we took off… and I started to feel distinctly dodgy. It was at this precise moment that the beautiful man next to me decided to try and make conversation. All I could think was “Don’t throw up over the beautiful man… don’t throw up over the beautiful man” – which isn’t exactly conducive to witty and suggestive banter. I had no choice but to put on my iPod, close my eyes, and pretend I was far, far away from the intensely unfair reality of my situation.
I somehow managed to get through the flight without upchucking over the American model – but I know for sure, that was the only ‘attractive stranger on a plane’ experience I’ll ever have. That kind of thing could never happen twice. So wish me luck for my 12 hours of being squished by a skanky, snoring, drunken old man en route to Paris – but at least there’s a pain au chocolat and the Eiffel Tower waiting for me on the other side!
Sunday, March 4, 2007
And just when I thought I understood it all…
So I’ve been a bit useless over the past week - but there have been some interesting developments that it’s finally time to blog about.
First of all… it’s time to confess… just when we all thought it was over, the Broken Arm saga continues… (Broken Arm of New Years and Sun City fame - By the way, his arm is no longer broken but the name is going to stick).
It all started weekend before last – I went over to The Ron’s place to check out his new pad – which is in the same apartment block so it looks almost identical to his old one – but I still had to make the obligatory “Wow! What a big change!” noises. We sat on his balcony smoking many cigarettes and drinking several MGDs.
At some point we got onto the subject of Broken Arm. We had never really discussed the whole scenario in much detail before, due to the weirdness of the situation with Broken Arm and I being his two closest friends… the conversation went something like this:
The Ron: “I think it’s actually a good thing that you and Broken Arm hooked up – there’s always been an attraction between the two of you, and now that you’ve gotten past the whole hooking up thing, the two of you could pursue a really good friendship. Although the two of you have never been extremely close, you’ve got about seven years of friendship behind you and that means a lot.”
Mozi: “Ummmm…. I dunno, the last time I saw Broken Arm at your place, during the lift ride to your flat I was properly contemplating breaking the glass and jumping out onto Grayston Drive just to escape the awkwardness.”
So that was the end of that – and I headed off to Jay’s farewell/birthday party.
Afterwards The Ron smsed me about joining them at Madhatters. I hadn’t been back since New Years and felt like a bit of a party, so off I went. Arrived to find the group consisted of The Ron, his girlfriend and Broken Arm. And we were right back to all the awkwardness.
So after about an hour, The Ron and his girlfriend disappeared, leaving Broken Arm and I to ourselves. Broken Arm was sitting there looking like someone had just murdered his grandmother – so I decided enough was enough. I was going to make an effort to make decent conversation with the boy. His demeanour changed instantly. At some point he turned to me and asked “Mozi, why do you always give me so much sh*t??” I realised he was right, and the combination of both of our defensiveness had been why things had always been so awkward between us since the New Year’s snog. And then suddenly we were having quite a good time, chatting away. A mix of good conversation with the usual insults we hurl at each other. He suggested we go get a drink – and at that moment The Ron arrived back to inform us that his girlfriend had damaged her toe and that they were leaving. So we started walking out and somehow Broken Arm ended up holding my hand.
We got outside, and Broken Arm whispered something to The Ron, who replied with an “Oh my God. You two!” Broken Arm was supposed to be leaving in their car, but he asked if I’d give him a ride home. So off we went – in what would have been my idea of pure hell two weeks ago – just Broken Arm and me - alone in my car. He suggested we go for a drink somewhere – so we drove around looking for an open establishment, but since it was now 1:30am, we had no luck. So we decided to head back to Broken Arm’s house for a final drink. We sat in his garden, chatting away. It was just so completely different to how it has been so far this year. I was actually enjoying myself.
Ended up heading home at around 3:30am – he walked me to my car and then said to me: “This was different…. we should really do this again.” And I found myself replying: “Definitely, I agree.” At which point Broken Arm said “Oh my god, you’re so full of sh*t – you don’t have to get sarcastic”. I told him I was actually being serious, and he said so was he. So we left it, with him repetitively stating that I must call him.
When I got home, realised I had deleted his number on my phone, and the only way to get it again was by asking The Ron, which was the last thing in the world I wanted to do…
The Ron: Hey Mozi
Mozi: Hey man… how things?
The Ron: Fine – what’s up?
Mozi: Ummmm nothing, just calling to see how you’re doing.
The Ron: Okaaay – I’m fine
Mozi: Good.
The Ron: Good.
(Silence)
Mozi: So… funny story! Ended up having a good chat with Broken Arm on Saturday night and I said I’d call him but I’ve deleted his number.
The Ron: I knew you wanted something.
Mozi: (Nervous laughter)
The Ron: By the way, I had the same conversation with Broken Arm about the fact that I feel the two of you should be good mates and I thought you’d be interested to know that he was a lot more receptive to the idea than you were.
Mozi: (More nervous laughter)K bye!
Crap. So now I was left wondering if I had gotten completely the wrong picture about what had been going on between myself and Broken Arm. Was this Broken Arm’s way of trying to get to know me better in the hopes of developing a friendship?! Decided I was going to sms him right away, keeping it seriously low key and casual.
Mozi’s SMS: Hey Broken Arm. It’s not a phonecall, but a sms will have to do. It was good chatting on Saturday night, probably the longest convo we’ve ever had. Have sweet dreams of N (ex-girlfriend of his that I know and always rip him off about).
Broken Arm’s SMS: Hi Mozi. I guess an sms will do. Was probably pushing my luck with a call anyway. Been thinking of N all day. Cheers Broken Arm.
So I decided not to respond and that was the end of that. Until this weekend. Back to the Madhatters…
Went with a group of friends – again featuring The Ron and Broken Arm. Had a good time, chatting and dancing away. Eventually started talking to Broken Arm – who asked why I hadn’t replied to his sms. I told him that I didn’t have to, since I made the initial contact. He said it didn’t really count because it was a “bullsh*t sms”. He left saying he’d call me this week… we’ll see what happens.
I think I may be starting to like this boy – particularly realised this after bumping into a work friend at Madhatters – whose eyes lit up as soon as she spotted Broken Arm. I suddenly saw her checking him out and quickly let her know that he was completely off limits.
Anyways! Enough about that! The ball is now in Broken Arm’s court – and I have made a pact with myself not to obsess about it. Which will be made easier by the second bit of news – MsMozi is off to Paris this week. My editor informed me last Wednesday night that I’ve been invited to Paris with SA Tourism for a marketing trip. Leaving on Tuesday – providing I get my visa in time – hold thumbs for me!
First of all… it’s time to confess… just when we all thought it was over, the Broken Arm saga continues… (Broken Arm of New Years and Sun City fame - By the way, his arm is no longer broken but the name is going to stick).
It all started weekend before last – I went over to The Ron’s place to check out his new pad – which is in the same apartment block so it looks almost identical to his old one – but I still had to make the obligatory “Wow! What a big change!” noises. We sat on his balcony smoking many cigarettes and drinking several MGDs.
At some point we got onto the subject of Broken Arm. We had never really discussed the whole scenario in much detail before, due to the weirdness of the situation with Broken Arm and I being his two closest friends… the conversation went something like this:
The Ron: “I think it’s actually a good thing that you and Broken Arm hooked up – there’s always been an attraction between the two of you, and now that you’ve gotten past the whole hooking up thing, the two of you could pursue a really good friendship. Although the two of you have never been extremely close, you’ve got about seven years of friendship behind you and that means a lot.”
Mozi: “Ummmm…. I dunno, the last time I saw Broken Arm at your place, during the lift ride to your flat I was properly contemplating breaking the glass and jumping out onto Grayston Drive just to escape the awkwardness.”
So that was the end of that – and I headed off to Jay’s farewell/birthday party.
Afterwards The Ron smsed me about joining them at Madhatters. I hadn’t been back since New Years and felt like a bit of a party, so off I went. Arrived to find the group consisted of The Ron, his girlfriend and Broken Arm. And we were right back to all the awkwardness.
So after about an hour, The Ron and his girlfriend disappeared, leaving Broken Arm and I to ourselves. Broken Arm was sitting there looking like someone had just murdered his grandmother – so I decided enough was enough. I was going to make an effort to make decent conversation with the boy. His demeanour changed instantly. At some point he turned to me and asked “Mozi, why do you always give me so much sh*t??” I realised he was right, and the combination of both of our defensiveness had been why things had always been so awkward between us since the New Year’s snog. And then suddenly we were having quite a good time, chatting away. A mix of good conversation with the usual insults we hurl at each other. He suggested we go get a drink – and at that moment The Ron arrived back to inform us that his girlfriend had damaged her toe and that they were leaving. So we started walking out and somehow Broken Arm ended up holding my hand.
We got outside, and Broken Arm whispered something to The Ron, who replied with an “Oh my God. You two!” Broken Arm was supposed to be leaving in their car, but he asked if I’d give him a ride home. So off we went – in what would have been my idea of pure hell two weeks ago – just Broken Arm and me - alone in my car. He suggested we go for a drink somewhere – so we drove around looking for an open establishment, but since it was now 1:30am, we had no luck. So we decided to head back to Broken Arm’s house for a final drink. We sat in his garden, chatting away. It was just so completely different to how it has been so far this year. I was actually enjoying myself.
Ended up heading home at around 3:30am – he walked me to my car and then said to me: “This was different…. we should really do this again.” And I found myself replying: “Definitely, I agree.” At which point Broken Arm said “Oh my god, you’re so full of sh*t – you don’t have to get sarcastic”. I told him I was actually being serious, and he said so was he. So we left it, with him repetitively stating that I must call him.
When I got home, realised I had deleted his number on my phone, and the only way to get it again was by asking The Ron, which was the last thing in the world I wanted to do…
The Ron: Hey Mozi
Mozi: Hey man… how things?
The Ron: Fine – what’s up?
Mozi: Ummmm nothing, just calling to see how you’re doing.
The Ron: Okaaay – I’m fine
Mozi: Good.
The Ron: Good.
Mozi: So… funny story! Ended up having a good chat with Broken Arm on Saturday night and I said I’d call him but I’ve deleted his number.
The Ron: I knew you wanted something.
Mozi: (Nervous laughter)
The Ron: By the way, I had the same conversation with Broken Arm about the fact that I feel the two of you should be good mates and I thought you’d be interested to know that he was a lot more receptive to the idea than you were.
Mozi: (More nervous laughter)
Crap. So now I was left wondering if I had gotten completely the wrong picture about what had been going on between myself and Broken Arm. Was this Broken Arm’s way of trying to get to know me better in the hopes of developing a friendship?! Decided I was going to sms him right away, keeping it seriously low key and casual.
Mozi’s SMS: Hey Broken Arm. It’s not a phonecall, but a sms will have to do. It was good chatting on Saturday night, probably the longest convo we’ve ever had. Have sweet dreams of N (ex-girlfriend of his that I know and always rip him off about).
Broken Arm’s SMS: Hi Mozi. I guess an sms will do. Was probably pushing my luck with a call anyway. Been thinking of N all day. Cheers Broken Arm.
So I decided not to respond and that was the end of that. Until this weekend. Back to the Madhatters…
Went with a group of friends – again featuring The Ron and Broken Arm. Had a good time, chatting and dancing away. Eventually started talking to Broken Arm – who asked why I hadn’t replied to his sms. I told him that I didn’t have to, since I made the initial contact. He said it didn’t really count because it was a “bullsh*t sms”. He left saying he’d call me this week… we’ll see what happens.
I think I may be starting to like this boy – particularly realised this after bumping into a work friend at Madhatters – whose eyes lit up as soon as she spotted Broken Arm. I suddenly saw her checking him out and quickly let her know that he was completely off limits.
Anyways! Enough about that! The ball is now in Broken Arm’s court – and I have made a pact with myself not to obsess about it. Which will be made easier by the second bit of news – MsMozi is off to Paris this week. My editor informed me last Wednesday night that I’ve been invited to Paris with SA Tourism for a marketing trip. Leaving on Tuesday – providing I get my visa in time – hold thumbs for me!
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