The club scene has become rather dry for me. For someone who has partied hard from the time I was thirteen, I could say I have done pretty much everything in there is to do. Going out for me has become somewhat a lifestyle and a chance to see new faces, fashion trends and maybe broaden my network. Actually, not maybe, I am a serial networker when I am up to it.
Yesterday evening my gym partner and... I decided to hangout over a bottle of Vodka and watch the soccer game (with a group of friends that fortunately left when their drinks ran out). I am not much of a sports fan but it seemed to be what everyone in Africa was getting up to so I assumed to role of a sheep. I did it with surprising nonchalance as normally I would probably want to do something different. But again I wanted to see the opening act and all the ‘organisational’ work behind the whole AFCON hoo-ha.
The game didn’t seem to be what all South Africans expected but that didn’t change the size of my pants so I couldn’t care less. It was soccer after all. A few glasses later we decided to leave my place and go out for a drink, which often becomes six or more depending on the mediocre of a budget we were on. It is January.
Getting ready was not really a mission as we were already enjoying our drinks and any timely process that could encourage any soberness was avoided. At this point getting to the next bar was more than a matter of urgency. I would actually compare it to an emergency if asked – anyway, who cares.
Missiong out to Shisanyama – a local bar and braai venue was a conscious reflex for the both of us. The rain didn’t support that trip though. Only the die-hards and regular faces were there and I was not in the mood to meet the same people over and over again. The yo-yo social circles of Centurion really get to me at times. I sometimes think the Gautrain has a more exciting life, from the buzzing and bustling downtown Jozi right across to the uptight Pretoria with the station that still looks and feels like the 1820s. We left the place in anticipation of a better venue.
Our financial state couldn’t afford us anything as crazy as rolling out to Melville or Rosebank – hangout places in Joburg where everyone assumes success is etched on fake smiles and fake hair that flows or car keys often displayed on tables in restaurants. This is like an estuary of sinners and abnormally pretentious lost souls. The little things that make me appreciate my boring and less bright Centurion. Eventually we arrived at News Café in Centurion, where no one seemed to care what anyone thought about their presence there, how they got there and who they were with.
Thanks to the weather going to the bar was not a “sorry, excuse me, sorry, may I…” journey that we normally experience when everyone is paid and with a warm climate. During all of that you can imagine different fragrances you encounter. From the heaviest unpleasant scent of Justin’s Carpe Diem cologne on a 45 year old Skhothane to the body spray overdosed by a 23 year old graduate who’d probably come, ostensibly to the city in search of a job and sleeps on his sister’s couch, in a one bedroom flat that is unfittingly called a townhouse just because it is in Centurion - yawn.
I love sitting at the bar or right outside on the deck at this place, sadly tonight I was forced to be at the bar; I did mention it was raining unless you aren’t following. The facile success had more perks to it; we could see the door, the dance floor and the smoking area perfectly from where we planted our asses. I still do not understand what the chick in the blue heels and the guy with the drenched face were doing on the dance floor, if that was dancing then I am surely Usher’s competition.
I had a pretty lady with and there was without doubt the potential of a lot of males looking at her, which is sadly in both our direction. I have a few drop dead gorgeous female friends, actually not a few, plenty. When I am with them I normally beef up and pretend to be the boyfriend. LOL. Yes, I do cock-block and do get a kick out of it. Don’t you just hate me?
A random dude innocently came to the bar for what seemed to be a refill or maybe he came to get a closer look at my partner in crime – bloody window shopper. I had had one too many to rub her back or make any gesture that would suggest we are an item. Whatever the case, she would have to fight this one herself…anyway we were two rounds to our exit and we could do with some foolish company. I also get a kick out of listening to random unpleasant looking guys’ macking on my graceful friends. I can’t get over the guy who once told a friend he owned a club we were in, sometime in 2009, and hardly ten minutes later was thrown out by bouncers…so much for a little attention.
Back to the dude, the worst thing he did before he even spoke to us was to smile. I don’t like the way people use smiles, getting in the way of who they really are, what they really mean and the bullshit they really have in mind. I get awfully quiet when I’m not sober, I don’t get why my friends make it a joke; Thabiso, Mohau, Napo?? What I can’t stand is the “talk to the guy first” rehearsed pattern when they want to know ladies. I couldn’t even hear what the greeting was behind that heavy “America meets South Africa in private schools” accent.
I gave him the cursory look I give to people who make petty conversations on the Gautrain, flights or functions – trust me at times I can’t stand some conversations. I choose to stay relevant not desperate for a chat. My then embarrassed companion did the smile thing and greeted back as I zoned out and downed my drink like I could afford more, only if people knew. I didn’t expect to find the guy there when I took my head out of my Vodka and cranberry glass, I could have kept it in there longer but that ice wasn’t doing justice to my lips.
This guy reached out his hand and I really didn’t want to be a path of contamination and get any diseases so I ‘kindly’ presented my fist for him to bounce off his on. At least my palm was still safe and germ free. In the back of my mind I was hoping this guy would just ask for the chick’s number and leave. Goodness did he talk!! Normally I respond to these kinds of people monosyllabically, but the poor guy made sense, that I give to him. I thought he was quiet smart as he had also observed that I don’t like smiles, either you laugh or you don’t, this is not TV.
My friend was slowly dissolving into his charm and honestly I thought he was a cool cat and I’d not put a red card anywhere around him. After all, Miss Thang hasn’t been laid in 2013. It got to a point where I wasn’t sure whether her giggles at his jokes were genuine or it was the sound caused by how her body was reacting to his presence.
I don’t think this dude was aware how my friend was already in bed with him, in her mind. I asked him why he randomly decided crash our party and looked at him in such a way that he would know I wanted a concise answer; that didn’t have to be a conversation. I must say his strangeness was somewhat strange, if you get what I mean, I am not that interested in individuals actually. Not really. I’m only really interested in what they do, what their motivations are. What they know about things.
His reason for joining us was quiet a flattering joke and I really think some people know how to blend in. I still don’t believe this guy had us in conversation until 5am. Well done and we will definitely hang again soon. As for my friend, poor thing probably didn’t sleep…
Made a new smart friend this weekend.
Yesterday evening my gym partner and... I decided to hangout over a bottle of Vodka and watch the soccer game (with a group of friends that fortunately left when their drinks ran out). I am not much of a sports fan but it seemed to be what everyone in Africa was getting up to so I assumed to role of a sheep. I did it with surprising nonchalance as normally I would probably want to do something different. But again I wanted to see the opening act and all the ‘organisational’ work behind the whole AFCON hoo-ha.
The game didn’t seem to be what all South Africans expected but that didn’t change the size of my pants so I couldn’t care less. It was soccer after all. A few glasses later we decided to leave my place and go out for a drink, which often becomes six or more depending on the mediocre of a budget we were on. It is January.
Getting ready was not really a mission as we were already enjoying our drinks and any timely process that could encourage any soberness was avoided. At this point getting to the next bar was more than a matter of urgency. I would actually compare it to an emergency if asked – anyway, who cares.
Missiong out to Shisanyama – a local bar and braai venue was a conscious reflex for the both of us. The rain didn’t support that trip though. Only the die-hards and regular faces were there and I was not in the mood to meet the same people over and over again. The yo-yo social circles of Centurion really get to me at times. I sometimes think the Gautrain has a more exciting life, from the buzzing and bustling downtown Jozi right across to the uptight Pretoria with the station that still looks and feels like the 1820s. We left the place in anticipation of a better venue.
Our financial state couldn’t afford us anything as crazy as rolling out to Melville or Rosebank – hangout places in Joburg where everyone assumes success is etched on fake smiles and fake hair that flows or car keys often displayed on tables in restaurants. This is like an estuary of sinners and abnormally pretentious lost souls. The little things that make me appreciate my boring and less bright Centurion. Eventually we arrived at News Café in Centurion, where no one seemed to care what anyone thought about their presence there, how they got there and who they were with.
Thanks to the weather going to the bar was not a “sorry, excuse me, sorry, may I…” journey that we normally experience when everyone is paid and with a warm climate. During all of that you can imagine different fragrances you encounter. From the heaviest unpleasant scent of Justin’s Carpe Diem cologne on a 45 year old Skhothane to the body spray overdosed by a 23 year old graduate who’d probably come, ostensibly to the city in search of a job and sleeps on his sister’s couch, in a one bedroom flat that is unfittingly called a townhouse just because it is in Centurion - yawn.
I love sitting at the bar or right outside on the deck at this place, sadly tonight I was forced to be at the bar; I did mention it was raining unless you aren’t following. The facile success had more perks to it; we could see the door, the dance floor and the smoking area perfectly from where we planted our asses. I still do not understand what the chick in the blue heels and the guy with the drenched face were doing on the dance floor, if that was dancing then I am surely Usher’s competition.
I had a pretty lady with and there was without doubt the potential of a lot of males looking at her, which is sadly in both our direction. I have a few drop dead gorgeous female friends, actually not a few, plenty. When I am with them I normally beef up and pretend to be the boyfriend. LOL. Yes, I do cock-block and do get a kick out of it. Don’t you just hate me?
A random dude innocently came to the bar for what seemed to be a refill or maybe he came to get a closer look at my partner in crime – bloody window shopper. I had had one too many to rub her back or make any gesture that would suggest we are an item. Whatever the case, she would have to fight this one herself…anyway we were two rounds to our exit and we could do with some foolish company. I also get a kick out of listening to random unpleasant looking guys’ macking on my graceful friends. I can’t get over the guy who once told a friend he owned a club we were in, sometime in 2009, and hardly ten minutes later was thrown out by bouncers…so much for a little attention.
Back to the dude, the worst thing he did before he even spoke to us was to smile. I don’t like the way people use smiles, getting in the way of who they really are, what they really mean and the bullshit they really have in mind. I get awfully quiet when I’m not sober, I don’t get why my friends make it a joke; Thabiso, Mohau, Napo?? What I can’t stand is the “talk to the guy first” rehearsed pattern when they want to know ladies. I couldn’t even hear what the greeting was behind that heavy “America meets South Africa in private schools” accent.
I gave him the cursory look I give to people who make petty conversations on the Gautrain, flights or functions – trust me at times I can’t stand some conversations. I choose to stay relevant not desperate for a chat. My then embarrassed companion did the smile thing and greeted back as I zoned out and downed my drink like I could afford more, only if people knew. I didn’t expect to find the guy there when I took my head out of my Vodka and cranberry glass, I could have kept it in there longer but that ice wasn’t doing justice to my lips.
This guy reached out his hand and I really didn’t want to be a path of contamination and get any diseases so I ‘kindly’ presented my fist for him to bounce off his on. At least my palm was still safe and germ free. In the back of my mind I was hoping this guy would just ask for the chick’s number and leave. Goodness did he talk!! Normally I respond to these kinds of people monosyllabically, but the poor guy made sense, that I give to him. I thought he was quiet smart as he had also observed that I don’t like smiles, either you laugh or you don’t, this is not TV.
My friend was slowly dissolving into his charm and honestly I thought he was a cool cat and I’d not put a red card anywhere around him. After all, Miss Thang hasn’t been laid in 2013. It got to a point where I wasn’t sure whether her giggles at his jokes were genuine or it was the sound caused by how her body was reacting to his presence.
I don’t think this dude was aware how my friend was already in bed with him, in her mind. I asked him why he randomly decided crash our party and looked at him in such a way that he would know I wanted a concise answer; that didn’t have to be a conversation. I must say his strangeness was somewhat strange, if you get what I mean, I am not that interested in individuals actually. Not really. I’m only really interested in what they do, what their motivations are. What they know about things.
His reason for joining us was quiet a flattering joke and I really think some people know how to blend in. I still don’t believe this guy had us in conversation until 5am. Well done and we will definitely hang again soon. As for my friend, poor thing probably didn’t sleep…
Made a new smart friend this weekend.
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