That old special feeling..
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Ardent 2oceansvibe readers (and those who have done the right thing and read the archives from start to finish) will clarify whether or not I have used the heading 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' before. Surely I must have. It's too obvious to have not used before. I'd love to know. Anyone who tells me what month I used the same heading will win and be sent a state-of-the-art FREE KATIE T-shirt. That's right. You heard me. Just like that...[snap your fingers] you'll be wearing the latest -be-cool gear from Europe and the States (not the Free State.... the UNITED States).

Does anyone know where this hicky on my neck is from? By day two it actually becomes sore, like a bruise. You start wearing more Polo shirts (horse riding to the left) with collars, hiding the beast on your neck. In fact, besides a newborn child, what other 'big night' reminders (UDI - Unidentified Drinking Incident) last longer than a hicky?

When your bar tab is being looked after by the Dirty South crew (half funded by Caprice, I sincerely hope), you'll find yourself able to spend your time focusing on more important things like your dance technique and the little angels all around. So, so many angels. It's back, people - Sunday nights at Caprice. You're probably starting to understand why I have struggled to put my hangover into words for two days.

Take a deep breath.....

After buying pairs of Dunhill loafers and slippers from Dunhill men's boutique at the Waterfront, and after the beach bat bandits attacked us again on Sunday (2 meters to the nearest sun worshipper is pushing it, people) an early night was decided upon. I was so settled on the sofa (hi), ready for Zimbabwe stories on Carte Blanche. But then the sms came in. I quote, "That's a pity..... angels EVERYWHERE". We were at Caprice within 12 minutes.

Do not, I repeat, do not make the error of thinking that nine-o-clock is a good gauge on what direction the evening will be taking. You'll be doing yourself a great injustice if you did. I see people making the error, time and time again. I pity them. Sometimes you need to sit tight, and wait for it to happen. Be yourself, talk to your friends, have a laugh, talk about old times...new times. But for God's sake, don't dispair! Nine-o-clock is a bad indication of where you're headin' (I don't really talk like that. I was in a Western movie mood during that last sentence). Order another round of drinks. Let Emma talk you into a round of tequilas. Cast your eyes over the usual suspects. Hi, how are you? Very well, thanks.

Let me tell you what will happen if you let the night take care of itself. By 11 you'll be restled to the ground by two hicky-making-machines, using your left hand to balance on the ground, and your right hand to grab the vodka red bull that is being passed to you by a nameless, faceless person. It's a fact. It CAN happen. I saw it happen with my own eyes!

Breathe.

Continual-praise-of-Caprice perks include sometimes being able to dictate what the next song will be.

All the leaves are..

ALL THE LEEEEEEAVES ARE BROWWWN

And the sky is grey

AND THE SKY IS GREEEEY

California

CA LI FORNIA DREAMIIIIIING

On such a Winter's DAAAAAAAAAAAAY !

(That was long after earlier's obvious request of DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince's 'Summertime'.)

My fetish for trying woman's lip balm and skin products (Elizabeth Arden's Eight Hour cream is pretty much number one) has led me to a new brand of lip product. Found at Clicks, I believe. It's called Soft Lips and comes in cherry, vanilla, berry and plain flavours. Tracy had all four. Vanilla was good.

I can feel it, and I'll tell you about it. Fuck Winter, it doesn't exist. I think Thursdays at Eclipse are looming. But for now, let me tell you this. Those special warm Monday morning hangovers are back. Brought to you by Dirty South and Caprice, Camps Bay, Sunday nights. There were even rah-rah skirts. Let's face it, Winter is only really two weeks of rain. Get out from your little Winter-fear based burrows in the ground and have a look around. You're being pathetic.

I know it's our catch phrase, but I've never used it in an article. Maybe you missed it. Work is a sideline, live the holiday.

Seth Rotherham
Editor
2oceansvibe.com
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