Riddle me this

What's up with creating a Facebook account, giving yourself an exotic name (such as FoShizzleBeatz Boi), using a car as a profile pic (are you a transformer, hun?), then inviting us run-of-the-mill folks?

Hmm, FoShizzleBeatz Boi? Doesn't sound familiar. Maybe if I see his face I'll remem... Oh, no face pic? Uhm, so does this mean he drives a shiny red Ferrari 360 Modena? Nice wheels, but I don't know anyone who owns them. Maybe its his "dream car", in which case, join the queue, buddy, we all want one! And sadly, it doesn't bring me any closer to knowing who on earth you are.

Let's go to mutual friends. Oh, you're friends with Will, too?  So all I have to do is send a text or two,

Me: Hey Will, who is FoShizzleBeatz Boi?

Will: wtf?? i'm sleepin

Me: Never mind.

Ok, no worries. I'm sure if I see the rest of his profile, I'll recognise him. There's gotta be a clue as to...

"People who aren't friends with FoShizzleBeatz Boi only see some of his profile information. If you know FoShizzleBeatz personally, send him a message."

I don't know about you, but I'd like to have an idea about the sort of characters I let into my virtual world. 1 hacker, 2 years and 3 serious stalkers later, I've learnt how to watch my back, and not just accept anybody.

And no, I won't send FoShizzleBeatz a message, demanding to know who he is. If he'd wanted me to know his first name, he would've added a personal message to the invitation.

"View more photos of FoShizzleBeatz"

Yes, that's it. Before he was a car, FoShizzleBeatz was human, right? So let's see a smiling face!

Ooh, an Aston Martin DB9. My ex used to love this car. I'd always thought someday, after many years together, I'd have a few million Rand lying around gathering dust. Then on Valentine's Day, or maybe on our anniversary... Wait, why am I getting distracted? We broke up eons ago!

Next photo

Cars, cartoon characters, and more beautiful cars, until...

Photo 37, there you are!

At the beach, in a fly bikini. Wow, FoShizzleBeatz, you're one mighty fine lady! I don't know what made me think you were a guy, but sister...

Oh wait. Zoom in a bit. Dammit, that's Vida Guerra. I'm never going to solve this mystery, am I?

Bye bye, FoShizzleBeatz, it wasn't meant to be.

"Ignore request"

Ok, let's see who else wants to be friends.

"Theincrediblehulk Bestofalltimes" is up next.

Today is just not my day :(

Dearest Karma...

You finally got me, you crazy, rotten, sadistic witch! I really should've seen this coming. But you know me, "still I rise" like Maya, and walk with my head held high, even as the fat lady hums her grand finale. I know I've been a bad, bad girl, and you're not done with me yet, but I'm on bended knee, begging you: Please, PLEASE don't mess with my degree, I need it!!

Love always
Sinazo

The drama that followed

And we danced for hours, with guys trying to join in (surprise, surprise).

We called it a night at about 4am, and began the cab haggle. Found one, jumped in, but had our path blocked by a strange guy (in what was probably a stolen car). He rolled down his window, apparently eager to start a conversation.

The jist of his beef was, his friend had his nose broken over me.

What? I'd never seen those boys before, let alone done anything to or with them worth breaking body parts over!
 But that didn't seem to phase this tough guy, he was cursing as if we gave a damn.
Eventually, my boys got so pissed off, they jumped out to beat him up. Good, someone needed to smack some sense into this fool.

No wait- these guys want to fight with some (unknown) guy who claims some other (unknown) guy got his nose broken over some girl they don't  even know! WTF??

What if he was armed? What if there were more in the car? Long street was crawling with bored cops, and if they'd  gotten arrested, they'd be spending the weekend in crowded cells. And who'd be left calling their parents, trying to get bail money? And therapy money, 'cause someone's bound to touch them in a private place. And I'll  get summoned to testify... I don't have anything to wear to court!

That's if I'm not thrown in right along with them!

Ok, calm down boys, no fighting today.

But they were out of the cab (cab driver included), hyped up on a dangerous mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Oh, we're screwed...

The guy sped off, leaving my crew cursing all the way back into the cab. Coward!

But it turns out the coward had back up, cause a very buff Hulk-type got out of his car, and banged on our windows to pick up were his friend left off. Now we're really screwed.

We weren't in a fighting mood anymore, so we didn't dare try to take him on. And besides, a slap from Hulk would've probably left us all on life support, so we made a speedy exit, and I prayed he wouldn't follow and try to run us off the road.

In retrospect, we should've tipped the cab driver extra for all the drama he had to go through. But all's well that ends well.

Hope you're drafting your wills, boys, we'll be at it again next week. This time with an ambulance and a lawyer on standby!

The formal, the party, and the drama that followed

Once upon a time, I invited a friend to my res formal. She accepted, and as all girls do, we chatted, plotted, and planned our outfits to the very last detail. Safe to say, I was quite excited about the whole thing. Now, due to certain, uhm, circumstances, I had to cancel that date.

 Another good friend came to see me a few days later with a dilemma. You see, said friend had been running concurrent interests in two young ladies. Or maybe 'ladies' is not an entirely appropriate term... Now I was tasked with helping him decide which one of those ,uh, women he should take to the formal. Poor boy was caught between a nun and a hoe (his words, not mine). After much careful deliberation, we (and by 'we', I mean 'I') decided to lose those girls, and go together.

Simple, really, except for the part where I wasn't sure what to tell my now former potential date, since she and I had kinda made other plans. Briefly considered lying to her, but that lie would need supporting evidence (also in the form of lies), and in the end the truth would be buried in a stinky compost heap of half-truths that quite frankly requires way more brain power than what I was willing to engage on the matter. So, honesty's actually just the lazy girl's way out...  

The formal was held at a swanky hotel in Camps Bay, and everyone was dressed like a movie star (red carpet faux pas included). Yours truly was in floor-length red number that was chosen (in part) by an Irish lad who liked me, then fell off the face of the earth shortly after I'd made the purchase. Great taste in clothes, dodgy dating tactics (him, not me).

The evening was splendid, with my date and I both winning awards . He won "Mr Muscle", and I "Miss Weave 2010" (I'd like to thank all the horses that selflessly sacrificed their tails to keep my hair in pretty styles...). The DJ was a flop, though, so we decided to have an after party in town.

Got to the club with four guys, so I was feeling a bit too testosteroned. Genius that I am, I grabbed the prettiest, blondest, blue-eyed girl within reaching distance, and invited her to party with us. So round after round was bought, til she buckled, and disappeared into the night. Probably had a few cats to park, poor thing. The rest of us soldiered on, and it wasn't long before I found another accomplice. Note to self: medics are extremely light-headed. If she says she's sober, she'll be slurring her words after two little shots. Sissy! So yet again, I was on to the next one.

And the third time lucky was a gem. This girl shook what her mama gave her til the DJ's decks stopped spinning. And she didn't even flinch the fifth time I said,  "One last round!". Such a trooper. It got a little sticky when my fake boyfriend (to keep pesky buggers away) found a girl he liked, and started chatting her up. My new BFF got pissed off on my behalf, and I didn't have the heart to tell her it was all make-believe. 

Her: "Your boyfriend is a loser!"

Me:  "Don't mind him, he's just drunk. Let's dance."

Her: "But he's giving that ugly girl his number!!"

Me:  "He's just trying to make me jealous. Really, just ignore him."

Her:  "But why do you stay with him?? He's such a jerk!"

By now my throat was scratchy and my ears ringing from all the shouting we had to do to hear each other above the thumping bass. So I readied my throat one last time, to utter my trusty escape sentence:

"One more round!"

to be continued... 

Getting started... eventually

Ok, so I've been following a few blogs, laughing and learning along with the rest of them. Then my good friend Fadzai goes and 'dares' me to start my own blog. Technophobe that I am, it's taken me a while to accept the dare, and even longer yet to start typing.

But now that I'm in this online-journal world of blogging, I'm gonna make the best of it.

Hello, beautiful cyberspace, and welcome to my world!