I got love for you if you were born in the Eighties

So on Friday morning Cinderella says to me while sitting in my lounge and bunking work;

“dude – i got a thing to do at the rugby tomorrow.  Wanna come?”  and I was all like, “Ja – for sure, who do we give bj’s to? If it involves Ryan Kankowski, I am ALL down with that”

She looks at me with one eyebrow raised and mumbles something about how desperately Hugh Grant needs to get back on a plane and visit me soon.

Yeah right.  I helped serve drinks with a group of hotties and then watched the rugby sitting in the golden circle where I could actually smell the rugby boys.  Yum.  Sharks won, Ryan waved at me – life was good.  In celebration, we decided that we would don Princess outfits and crash a 21st at the Royal Durban Golf Club or some such upper crust place.  It were a kiff jol, I’m not going to even lie to you.

I haven’t been to Eighties in a long time, so we decide that at midnight, when the birthday girl was jumping around in her panties and a tiara with a patch over her eye – it was time to take her out and about.  We arrive outside the club, and a group of giggling young girls want to know which matric dance we’ve just come from.  Me, being the newbie to this town, blurts out that we’re from Glenwood High.  Shocker, how was I supposed to know it was a boys school?  They believed the cover up of it being a new Government school.  Twits.

Needless to say, the wands, pirate hats, tiara’s and long dresses got us in for mahala and if we remembered to step over the chunder spots, it was a good place to finish off.  On the way out, some little street kid asked me for a sim card (or so I heard, apparently he wanted to know if he could wash my car) and so the entire group I was with pointed him in different directions where he could get a sim swap.  It doesn’t sound that hysterical now that I type it out but we were folded over in doubles laughing.
I paid all the homeless people R5 to let me take a photo of their living arrangements (they were shacked up in a puddle right outside the club) and they all got up and showed thumbs up signs and toothless grins.  It was awesome.  One dude named Hennie promised to personally guard my car the next time I came and renamed me to Cheena.

I would like to officially end off by saying:



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