In heat and on fire.

Everybody who has been getting slightly annoyed with my whining (including myself) will be happy to hear that my spirits are soaring high today. Probably due to a kitten free sleep and the fact that I will be teaching again tonight. It has been ages, though I counted and it was actually only two weeks. Also though (Attention English nerds – can I write that? I don’t usually care, but here I’m curious: Also though – okay?) I am enjoying the winter rain, I am freezing cold most of the time and can’t wait to be in the heat. Kervin, are you reading this? In the heat. Not in heat. He had just asked me whether I was in heat. Thanks, mate, but I am no bitch. At least not today it seems.

I will keep this short and sweet today as I need to run now.  I did want share some pictures though I took in the Seychelles as they make me feel warm and I had a dream about it tonight. Does anyone else ever giggle in dreams, because you realize your dream is completely silly? I do all the time. Tonight I was explaining to someone that they had to go to the Vallee de Mai on Praslin, a UNESCO world heritage site where the Coco de Mer grows. The guy in my dream wasn’t convinced that he wanted to hike through a forest so I had to be more explicit and explained to him: “Dude, the coconuts look like bums. Like big brown bums.” I did laugh about myself. I would make an awesome tourguide.

Any idea what Freud would make of this dream? And am I in trouble now for actually not saving any any pictures of the coconut bum to show?

No sex on the beach.

So this day has been the culmination of a crappy week and so bad that I thought my anxiety was back. I managed to keep it together for my co-worker because just like any man he gets scared by crying women. I thought the day was a goner for sure and only insane amounts of wine and some happy pills could make it remotely better, but luckily I was wrong. I think it was a mix of lots of Earl Grey with loads of sugar and some entertaining anecdotes from my Jo’burg pen pal. Probably the notion of hotel room sex, which he brought up in one of his emails also helped. No indecent proposals here, but just the mention of hotel room sex in general, which it seems we are both fans of. Who isn’t?

It started when I was a slave i.e. fashion assistant. One of the perks was that I got to travel travel cool places and usually stay in 5 star hotels with my boss. The boss would eventually complain about the 5-star hotel and ask me to request from the producer to be moved to another 5-star hotel. I had to hide my embarrassment when the producer asked me whether I was happy or would also like to move. Happy? I was still getting over the fact that they had Hermes bath products!  So I thankfully declined, the current 5-star hotel would suit me just fine.

This could now become a whole different story. A hotel story. I may write it one day. This one is about the not having hotel room sex.

The truth is that I have never had a crush on a male model before. Ever. I’ve seen them all, clothed, naked and everything in between and would usually help them getting from one state to the other. All part of the job description. Stereotype or not though, a lot of them are not very smart and either look too beefy or like 12 year old boys. Therefore usually no flirting, no crushes, definitely no hotel room sex for me on the job.

One exception was Oreol, the model for a fragrance campaign we shot in Ibiza. The day I had was quite stressful:

09h00 – 18h00: Lounge at the pool of the photographers’ villa all day while the private chef is making gourmet snacks.

18h00 – 18h05: At sunset give model a pair of black swim trunks.

18h05 – 19h00: Watch how they take portrait shot of him.

19h00 – 19h30: Go down to the beach with crew and take a swim.

19h00 – late: Have dinner on the beach.

No kidding – I got paid for this.

Oreol and I ended up having the loveliest conversation over dinner. A guy to my liking: from Barcelona, well travelled, studied, smart, funny and yes, he looked like a Roman god. At some point with the help of wine, sunset, beach some mild flirting entered the conversation. We ended up realizing that though we both travel lots we never pack toothpaste and end up paying exorbitant hotel prices. I had already done that in our Ibiza hotel and he hadn’t, so I thought it was only polite to offer him some of mine. I honestly didn’t even think it would go any further – what else would this god want in my room but toothpaste? Apparently other people, namely my boss George did. Travelling up the elevator together after returning from the beach, we got out, politely said good night and moved along the corridor to my room. George must have thought it a real possibility and gotten jealous because next thing I heard was him yelling: “Oreol, don’t you dare sleep with my assistant”. Thank you, George.

Needless to say that Oreol did not sleep with the assistant. Ever since I have stuck to the regular guys for hotel room sex and made sure George had something to complain and moved to another hotel before.

Of cat women and kitten guys.

So here is what I also did while hibernating:


http://seedsthoughts.blogspot.com/2011/05/10-things-10-scarves-10-moods-annika.html

I thought it would be a nice opportunity for my scarves to shine. I must admit though that the biography she included was a couple of weeks old (I did not know it would be included in all its’ glory at all to be true). I feel I must make this a point because after this weekend I am at ease with the world in general and the male population in particular for a change. Here is one reason why:

Delivered by a man in suit. For anyone who knows a bit about me – I am a sucker for men in suits and since everyone knows that Cape Town is a desert when it comes to suits this was a special and unexpected treat. Mind you, I like Irises too and thought it was quite endearing that he did not know their name, just that they were pretty and purple. Smiling me.

As I mentioned before the kittens will get one more write up here and then I will stop and hope that they will outgrow their cuteness. As godmother I was happily kitten sitting for the weekend. I probably have not mentioned that I do really want a cat myself and name her MiuMiu. The only reason I haven’t gotten one is that I’m afraid it will make me the old, single lady with the cat. Mind you I don’t consider myself old yet and if I had a cat the being single might not be so dreadful on rainy Sunday afternoons either. But for some reason I haven’t done the step yet – it seems to be seen as a step of desperation especially by guys. I think in this day and age most men like dogs. I also think if they do prefer cats that something is wrong with them. I know this assumption isn’t fair and bares all logic. I may have to blame Josh, a  guy I briefly dated in New York. He lived by himself with his big fluffy white cat called ‘Boo’. First I was delighted to have met a fellow cat lover, but after spending the night I realized there was something too strange about a man carrying a fluffy, white cat around the bedroom naked. With or without cat, it ended when he told he was moving to Houston. Funny enough in true Murphy’s law fashion I ran into him in a store two months later. We both mouthed the words ‘What the fuck?’ at the same time. Then he told me, no really, he was moving to Houston this week. I wasn’t sad to see him go – or not- and do blame him for my men with cats aversion.

I don’t think I need to explain anymore and will just say that for my world I don’t want a man who likes cats, but would like a man who likes me with a cat. That seems to be a bit tricky though. Kitten sitting was a good test run for things to come if I were to get a cat. The result – all is well in the world of cat girls and dog guys. Instead of kittens being kicked out of bed for being too squirmy, I was told off that it was my fault since I brought them into bed to begin with. Neither were the kittens reprimanded for watching R rated things, but me for not realizing what they were watching. The biggest surprise was probably that they had their pictures taken too and not by me.

What did I learn this weekend? I shouldn’t have to worry. Men, even if they love dogs, cannot resist kitten charm. Or me. Either way will work out fine for MiuMiu and me.

The old, the ugly and the useless.

So here is the dilemma. Or not. Depending on where you stand. The other day I wrote about the beautiful yet useless things I love and own. There are plenty of them and only their beauty can justify their crowding existence in my flat. There are however also numerous things I own that don’t have the good excuse of making my living space more pretty. Like the favourite cup with the broken handle, you used since college and no coffee ever tastes good except from this cup. I actually don’t own such a cup and I don’t drink coffee at home, but I have other stuff. Stuff that is old, ugly and/or useless, BUT which I love dearly - what to do with things like that?

Boots.

My uncle insists on calling them my cowboy boots even though I have explained a thousand times that they are in fact motorcycle boots. Bought when motorcycle boots where the shit in NY, second-hand for $60. There price has gone up by about 500% over the years, both in sentimental value, worn-in-ness and actual money spent on repairs.

Sadly they live in my closet now as I think my mother did have a point that boots three sizes too big could be a reason for tripping and twisting my ankle.

Sparkle.

The best little H&M rhinestone bracelet ever and unfortunately too cheap to even attempt to repair the broken clasp and replace the lost stone. I keep it in a box and like to look at it once in a while trying to remember the last time I wore it.

The thing.

The truth is I love kids, but I am usually not so keen to display kids made presents. Ups, there I said it. Parents go ahead and stone me. This thing (which upon questioning I learned is an ant) was made for me for Christmas by my director’s daughter Genie. She is 8 and I think it’s amazing. It looks like a weird creature from Pan’s Labyrinth and therefore has an honorary display spot on my shelf.

Tank.

Over my years in NY I spend such an insane amount of money on tank tops that I will actually die shamefully if I ever had to tally up. In my defence I have worn each and every one of the precious little pieces of fabric till they have fallen apart or longer. This Genera tank is ancient. I had to dye it as I spilled tomato sauce on it (previously white) within the first week. I had to cut the bottom off as the holes got too big to fix. To this day though, it is my favourite, softest, most often worn tank and will stay in my closet till it has more holes than fabric and then a little bit longer.

Actually never mind, no dilemma – as none of the stuff is actually old enough, ugly enough or useless enough for me to get rid of. Never ever. Or at least for now.

Back!

I’m somewhat back. At the office that is. My mind is still a bit clouded and I am not sure if it’s because it can’t actually work itself up to do anything productive or because my pain killers in fact do get me tripping. I haven’t had any today so if it is the latter, then they are really good and I think I should rather keep and sell them to people who appreciate them more and will pay me loads of money.

For anyone who cares, I didn't write much, because I didn't do much and can sum up the last two weeks of my life in a few sentences:

-          Valrhona chocolate eggs are worth every cent and should be available all year round.

-          Reading a book which ends in murder and consequent suicide is not a good idea when in hospital. I do think the girl at the bookstore should have warned me.

-          They do wear fun scrub caps with colours and patterns at the Mediclinic – just like in Grey’s Anatomy. That is unfortunately where all similarities end.

-          Alcohol is vital to any sickness recovery. Well, I knew that much before.

-          Animals also. That I did not know before.

Penny sitting on my sore knee in an attempt to make it all better.

Now I do promise, I will just do one more post with kitten pictures (as I am kitten sitting this weekend and because the ones I took yesterday were just deleted by accident) and then leave everybody alone with the kitten cuteness and instead deal with other ‘stuff’. Pinkie swear – only one more!