Big Hair, Bad Pants, Beer and Mud


So I was sitting here wondering what to write about today. Things have been pretty busy in the news department, what with infidelity in political circles (nothing new there…), golddigger Heather Mills’ divorce settlement and judgement (better than any soap on the box…), manic preachers and their surprising supporters and the schedule of a former first lady (ho-hum). But you know, when faced with the news everyday sometimes the most amusing stories come from under your own carpet, so while I find these stories embarrassing to share with you, I am hoping that somehow they will be easier to read than the broadsheets…

So here goes: My Most Memorable(?) Moments

Dancing Queen

I was thirteen and getting ready for the Valentines school dance – sorry it was in the 80’s so let us just call a spade a spade – I was getting ready to go to the disco! Yes, I said D-I-S-C-O. Fashion in the 80’s was laughable at best but in South Africa, it was probably laughably bad! I was wearing a checkered pants, with a white shirt and glow in the dark earrings. Forgive me now, it was the time and I was pretty trendy. But if you think that my outfit was the worst, think again, my dear friends, think again.  I can’t remember what song was playing, but I felt the overwhelming urge to march while dancing. I can still see it now – check pants, green glowing ear lobes and the march. I am happy to say that it obviously did not seem that out of place because I was definitely not a wallflower – or did I just dance by myself?

Mistaken Identity:

Move forward a few years to my final year at school. I think I had about two weeks until graduation and a friend (lets call her C), her boyfriend, mine (we will call him E) and I went out to the best pub in the city – it was scheduled to close down in about a month so we were enjoying the good parties there before the “Pig” closed it doors forever. Remember that in my home country, legal drinking age is 18 and all of us were 18. I had had a beer and was sitting on this table next to my friend and we were trying to have a conversation over the loud music. I reached my left hand out and put it on the leg of who I thought was my boyfriend. I rubbed his knee, squeezed his leg and did this for about a half an hour all the while chatting to C. While sitting on the table I looked across the room and saw my boy (E) smiling and waving at me over the heads of all the other revellers. I froze – in slow motion I lifted my hand from the leg next to me and slowly turned my head to see whose muscular extremity I was rubbing. I looked straight into the eyes of another girl’s boyfriend! OMG!!! She was not a friend of mine but never the less, we knew each other from the circle of friends in which we moved. He smiled, I shrugged and chugged down the beer. I am happy to announce that that was my one and only, ‘Shrug and Chug!’

All Dressed Up:

Let me remind you that I graduated from school in the later 80’s and so my graduation dance was in the 80’s. I was in boarding school and some soul felt very generous and dropped off a few overseas Vogue magazines which to girls in a boarding house was just the best thing since cockroach free sliced bread. I found a design for my dance dress. It looked very stylish – for a runway that is. And we all know that runway fashion is not necessarily ready fashion. But my parents never said a word and neither did the dressmaker and soon I was in some designer knock off black number with the largest brightest cerise pink taffeta half bow (I know it sounds bizarre but read that bit again slowly to yourself while you visualise it but please stay seated). Actually if you look at my photos I have tucked away in the safety of the photo boxes, all the boarding house girls had dresses from those magazines and we were S-T-Y-L-I-N-G!  Now take the dress, add a slightly oversized hair do and self applied make up and viola, you have a broad going to a dance. I am happy to say that I have come a long way since then and I managed to lose along the way, a pink bow, that make up bag and that tattered Vogue.

Butt Hang on a minute…

So I went to university and got into the full swing of student life. After boarding school, this was heaven. No real rules or restrictions and I was enjoying my freedom immensely. Me and 14000 other students! We were at a bar (do all my embarassing moments take place in a bar?) and yes, I was smoking. A group of us were standing in the back near the fire place, chatting, laughing, having a good time. I had finished my cigarette and was looking for a place to throw the butt and found a half empty, need I say…neglected beer bottle standing alone on the mantle piece. I popped the butt in the bottle and turned around, ready to head out the door. When my back was turned to the fireplace I heard this guy gag and spit out all the liquid in his mouth and shout loudly about something tasting foul in his beer and that if he finds the person…blah..blah..blah..I was not really caught out on this one but it was cheek warming enough and I hot footed it out of there before I had to replace his beer…sorry but you know, when a student, never ever leave your drink unattended.

(un)Chained Melody

This truly did not happen to me. I have told you others that happened to me but this one that I witnessed first hand, happened to a friend of mine. At university, at a bar, you get the picture. But this bar was out in the vineyards of my uni town and it was beautiful by day but drunken by night. We were at a party but we had to leave at 11pm because our residence had curfew for girls (this has changed since then, we were still part of the old school). The party had buses running back into town so that those without transport could also attend. How thoughtful. It had been raining, the ground was very muddy. and I was already on the bus with some of my friends and we were waiting for the last of the stragglers, including our friend – let us call her S. As we waited we watched as one bus was linked to another by a chain so that they could pull the stuck bus out the mud. They succeeded but had not removed the chain. Suddenly I heard the throngs of Chariots of Fire and turning slowly I saw S exit the building running drunkenly towards the bus and her only ride home. She had the promotional pink feather earrings on her ears and still held a bottle of some sort. With rain belting down she aimed in the general direction of our bus and put those legs in motion. She ran valiantly to make it in time but alas, did not see the chain. Chariots of Fire blaring in my head and S doing a spectacular but futile attempt at hurdling the chain which unfortunately she saw too late.

Let me tell you, mud is not that easy to get out of your hair, it needs at least three good shampoos.

Right then, back to the news tomorrow…



~ by ski holidays on March 20, 2008.

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