Haute Damn

There's whole lot of crazy happening in some parts of the country; a hurricane is threatening another country and my thighs seem to be increasing at an alarming rate.

Luckily, there is some solace from all of the cray cray. Shoes! When the hard things in life get you down, it's nice to know there's always the pretty things to keep you going.



I was lucky enough to be sent a sneak preview of the Bronx Ladies summer range and it's enough to forget all your problems.



Enjoy!

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

Sacrebleu!

So I haven't blogged, or tweeted or even updated my Facebook status in awhile. The reason being that things have all gotten a bit too much and I was a bit down.

Money issues, work issues, family issues, etc. It all takes over and all of a sudden, you've become a Negative Nancy. And while I believe in the redeeming powers of a good rant, I didn't want to spread all that negativity. There's only so much sympathy your readers can have without getting sick of it.

Thinking about my Thailand holiday helped get me back to happy.

But now I can report I've finally gotten back to my happy place. And I have shitloads to say ;)

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

This Week I...

…went to a drag show.

On Sunday night, Skinny Bitches and their favourite gays headed over to Beefcakes to have some cocktails, some nibbles and watch a drag show.


I started the night off with an Apple Be Martini and it was delish. Definitely the best apple martini I’ve tasted in Cape Town.



Once we’d eaten – an assortment of mini burgers, nachos and potato wedges – we anxiously awaited the arrival of Ms Venus Mercedes.


She appeared in a wave of smoke and glitter. Okay not really but it definitely sounds better then she walked up a flight of stairs and burst into a show tune.


The show was great. Apart from costume changes, sexy dance moves and some Liza covers, Ms Mercedes also talked us through her experience with love. Being a predominantly gay space, I did expect a chorus of “You don’t need to tell me about heartache, darling” but alas nothing.



Well I enjoyed the show, I always feel I could do better. It’s all those hours of watching Priscilla Queen of the Desert.

The only thing I’d struggle with is my drag name. I have an awesome stripper name but a drag name needs a touch of class.

Any suggestions?

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

How Do You Measure A Year

This past weekend we watched the movie version of the musical Rent. I don't like to mention names - Blue Eyes - but not everyone enjoyed it. I on the other loved it. While it's not happy like Hairspray or Mamma Mia! or romantic like The Phantom of the Opera, it's still a great musical. I suppose the subject material of AIDS, violence and drugs does not help matters.

While it is about those things, it also poses a very important question: How do You Measure a Year?

I'm paraphrasing from the song here but basically are you the type of person that measures your life in:

- minutes (525 600 to be exact)
- daylights
- sunsets
- midnights
- cups of coffee
- inches
- miles
- laughter
- strife
- truths learned
- times cried
- bridges burned

In the end, they offer up love as a measurement of a year. The song is called Seasons of Love after all.

While I'd love to measure a year in love, I'm afraid it won't be a very long calculation. I have to wait for Bradley Cooper to wake up and realise that he loves me first :)

But from now on, I think the measurement of a year shouldn't be how many hours you spent a job you didn't like, or how many times you looked at your phone wishing he'd call or even all those moments spent cursing in traffic.

From now on, I'm measuring a year in how many good coffee dates I've had with Blue Eyes, the nights I danced with my gays to Glee, the laughs I've had with my brothers and sisters, and the times when I realised how lucky I am.

How do you measure a year?

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

Ps. If you wanna hear the song, click here.

Image from here.

Monday's Mantra

This week I'll mostly be on shoot.
I believe boys are bigger drama queens.
I'm addicted to being in a tipsy state of mine. I'm more fun that way.
I wish it was payday.
It's sucky that chocolate contains calories
Soundtrack/Mantra for the Week Dream On

Image from here.

How To Impress A Skinny Bitch

Awhile ago I wrote about the things certain boys do that result in a flip of the wrist, an unimpressed facial expression and a muttering of “Dude, please!” Now I would like to let boys know what they can do to work their magic on this pair of skinny bitches. Please note if there are any hot foreign boys in your vicinity, please direct them to this blog and the below tips 

To impress a Skinny Bitch in the Making:

Say hello without a cheesy line.

There are very few pickup lines that actually work wonders with girls. If you’re so inclined your line needs to be witty, smart, provocative and delivered correctly. Too cheesy, we will laugh in your face and not feel bad. Too risqué we’ll give you a look like you’re an online sexual predator. Therefore stay away from these lines and try ‘Hello’. You’ll be surprised at its magic. Alternatively if you look like a drummer in a band or have a scar and stubble try ‘Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name’. But only if you can pull it off. Heads up, “Feel it, it is here” whilst pointing to your penis will get you slapped.

Buy us a drink.

Everyone loves a free drink, almost free anything really. If we’re at a fancy place, we like cosmopolitans. If we’re at a pub, we like gin and dry lemon. If we’re legless it doesn’t matter what you give us, we’ll think it’s alcohol anyway.

We love to dance.

Therefore some good moves on the floor will score you points. You do not need to be trained – in fact we’d prefer if you weren’t. If you’re better at us we’ll walk away. It’s fickle we know but we do pride ourselves on how well we can boogie. You just need to make some moves. Heads up, avoid coming up behind us and grinding whenever a “sexy” song comes on. If we’re at a club we probably don’t know you that well and would prefer if you stay away from that zone.

Laugh at our jokes.

We try really hard to impress you by being witty and clever so please show us you appreciate it. Most times we are quite funny or knowledgeable (we used to be pub quiz champs) but the more we drink the less sense we make. So laughing or smiling makes us think our charms are working.

Compliment our outfits and hair.

What we look like when we enter a club, bar or pub is probably not what we normally look like when we wake up. Unless it’s around 3 in the morning and we’ve come from another party, than we usually look better. We’ve taken time and effort and sustained burns from a GHD to look decent. Acknowledge it please.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

Things That I ♥ and Things That Bug Me

Things I ♥:

Pride and Prejudice. Whether it’s the book, the Keira Knightley version, Bridget Jones adaptation or the one where Colin Firth dives into the lake. They are all amazing and all evoke good feelings inside the tummy.

How a pair of lumunious pink tights (like the pair I’m wearing today) can make your whole day better. Patterned stockings and brightly coloured tights with boots are totally going to be the things I will miss most about winter.

Getting to wear make-up again. I spent the whole of the weekend looking like a swamp creature. Finally my hair is straight and clean, my face is no longer pale and I can wear makeup again. I took full advantage of this fact but doubling the eyeliner and applying bronzer everywhere. I was so overdone for work and I didn’t even care!

Cupcakes. One of my favourite things about working where I do is that when it’s an employee’s birthday we get cakes. Lots of it. And right now, nothing tastes better than a chocolate cupcake. Mmm, there are even Astros on top. Today is going to be a good week, two birthdays to celebrate. Lots more cake.

Things That Bug Me

People who cannot express themselves articulately enough so they make every second word a curse. Now do not get me wrong, I have nothing against swearing. When I’m drunk, I sound like a fisherman’s wife. And sometimes there is no better answer to a shocking story than the F word. But if you feel the need to insert a cuss after every word

The fear of leaving the bathroom stall with my dress tucked into my knickers. It hasn’t happened yet but I’m petrified. Even more so, I doubt anyone would tell me as to be polite. Then I’d get home, Blue Eyes would say something and I’d be filled with mortification for a year. The only consolation I have is that I’ve thrown out all my ugly underwear and if it does happen, people will be getting a glimpse of some sexy lace numbers.

That for the first time in my life, I really, really want to go to gym and I cannot. The fat kid inside of me has been waiting for this to come forever and now thanks to my doctor I will only be working out next week. I may have gained a gazillion more kilos by then.

Boys who are bigger drama queens than girls. I am all about the drama, it’s one of the things that make me special. When someone else takes away my production time and that someone is not one of my beloved gays, then I get really mad. I have spent the last couple of hours listening to a grown man moan more than my two-year old nephew when it’s bath time. Are my ears bleeding? Because it certainly feels like that.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!