I'm back!

My, my, my.  It has been a long time, hasn’t it?  Last we spoke, I’d just moved to Cape Town, was still calling it the Mother Shitty, and was learning to be a human again. 

Well, Boolings, let me tell you, SO MUCH HAS CHANGED.  It was only when I was reading these old posts today that I realised two things.  1) I NEEEEEEED to start blogging again; and 2) I done growed up some. 

In the two and a half years since my last post, these are some of the things that have  happened:

• Mama Boo and I moved out from the friends we were staying with and, after a brief sojourn in what may as well have been a shoe box, we found an amazing flat with an incredible view, and have been there just over two years now.  Never been cosier or happier in a home since high school.  

•  I got a new fkn bed, and it's the love of my life!!! I've spent almost three years sleeping on a squeaky, springy, slumpy three quarter bed, and I was DONE with that noise, so I sucked it up and splurged on a double bed, which makes me feel like a princess with no pea.  It's the best.

• I got a job I loved, and worked my way up till I hit the glass ceiling that was in place there.  Asked questions and wanted more, and when I realised that wasn’t going to happen, and that it was sucking my soul out, I got my ass outta there faster than the Flash on his way to a ‘Netflix and chill’.

• After leaving the succubus of a job, I got my dream job.  I can’t rave enough about how amazing it is.  I know I always start jobs with this zing of excitement and positivity, but I’m almost six months in now, and I can honestly say I want to do this forever.  It’s THE BEST, even though it’s exhausting.

• Dated a very cute fuckboy (before that was an accepted term) for a very short period of time, and it all ended when he decided I was too much for him.  At the time, I was of course gutted, but realised that being too much for someone just means that they’re not enough for me.  Realised also that that’s okay, not everyone is.  (Old me would have lamented this for eons, but that bit about healing?  It seems to have sunk in somewhat.)

• Dated a smart guy, who made me laugh and think and moan, and thought that was enough.  It wasn’t.  Put up with two years of bullshit because I listened to my idiot heart instead of my much smarter brain (and MUCH smarter friends and family), and ended up with a break up text just shy of our two year anniversary.

• Found my tribe in Cape Town.  These people… I can’t even begin to sum up how incredible they are.  They’re nothing like I ever imagined my tribe to be, but my god, I couldn’t imagine my life without them!

• Let go of my obsession with hating Cape Town.  The me of three years ago would be scandalised to hear me say this, but I fucking love it, and I’m not sure I’d ever leave again.  Don’t get me wrong, Jozi will always be home, but it’ll always be there and I’ll always love it.  Cape Town, however, despite its awful drivers and onbeskof wind, has won my heart all over again.  It took a long time for me to realise it, but I think that now that I’ve settled and found something to fill my days that I absolutely adore, it’s made it easier to love, and to admit that love.

• Stopped denying my weirdness, and dyed my hair bright pink with a purple undercut.  And fuck me, I feel like myself again!  It’s funny; when I moved here, everyone said I’d fit right in with all the weirdos, but I denied that part of myself and tried to just blend in with the crowd and be a regular Jane.  FAIL.  I hated that, it made me miserable, and it never fucking worked.  Now?  Doing what I love, with people I adore and would take a bullet for?  I’m me again, and I’m happy again.

• Certified my old hipster status by FINALLY getting my ass to a festival.  Two years in a row, and I want to LIVE at Up The Creek.  Just look at this!  How did I miss this for so long, and how can I make it my life?  It’s the kitties titties, guys.  You should be there.  You won’t regret it!

It just goes to show, resisting change doesn’t stop it from happening; you just end up making the same mistakes over and over until you learn and grow. 

Having recently come out of the long term shitty relationship, I’m in a place of insane growth right now, and as much as it hurts, it’s fantastic and I’m glad for it.  I’m pushing myself to new limits, trying new things (shout out to Tinder and Secret Sunsets, and that’s just this week!) and becoming a whole new version of myself.  I think I’m gonna like this version more than the last. 

So, in short, now that I’m back, keep your eyes peeled for Wednesday Wonders, Tinder Vigilante stories, Shit You Couldn’t Make Up, and more! 

Shit You Couldn't Make Up - The Rainman Edition

Guys. GUYS. I have a serious, and pretty unbelievable problem, and I need your help. Miss Loudmouth Chatterbox (moi, obviously) CANNOT TALK TO GUYS.

I know, I know. You're thinking 'Pfffft! Sure, Shell. Whatever you say.' But I swear, it's happening to me, and I'm fucked if I know why, or what to do about it. I've gone from the girl who makes friends with a girl by telling her that her (hideous) top is cute and so unique, just so I could get her to talk to my friend who couldn't take his eyes off her all night, to the girl who can do no more than coyly bat her lashes and smile at the boy across the room.

I was the girl going up to a cute boy in a bar and saying, 'Here's my number. That's where you can call me to fetch my friend over there after you take her home tonight.' Now I'm the girl who says it counts when a gorgeous specimen who makes her lady parts giggle follows her outside when she goes to smoke, and they stand near each other and do the subtle check out, but nobody says anything.

Old me: "No time to explain ... Get in the punani!!"

New me: *Gurgling fish out of water noises, complete with bulging, panicked eyes* (Thank God for giant sunnies!!!)

I can remember dates of 1970's celebrity deaths, and my junior school phone number, but I can't remember how to flirt with a hot guy? What am I, the fucking Rainman?!?!?!

You see, I've come across a remarkably sexy and sweet looking guy a couple of times on my jols with Mama Boo the last few weeks, and we've established that we've noticed each other (as evidenced by the pathetic overuse of Bambi-style Kissy Eyes.) The next logical step is one of us talking to the other (and hopefully, the other talking back, thus creating what I believe they call Conversation). This is where shit gets weird, because I freeze up and get clammy. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. 

I know what you're thinking... 'Dafuq, Shell?! Why are we even having this conversation?!'* I'm wondering the same thing.

So, friends, this is where you come in. I'd appreciate any reminders of how easy it is to just fucking talk to a guy. ALso: tips on how to talk to a smoking hot yet apparently shy boy would not go amiss. You guys can be my wingmen... wingladies... Wingpeeps!**

* Transcript of actual conversation about the dumbest problem I've ever had, so I know it's what you're thinking

** Weeps? Er... 

A new feature! Shit You Couldn't Make Up

Boolings.... Dear Boolings.

You must be SO tired of hearing how hard the last year's been, with the divorce, and moving house, and losing my job, and losing my house, and having to move to Cape Town. And yea, it has been hard. And I've alluded to some pretty cool times as well, and there have been a load of those. 

Source

But what I haven't told you about? The crazy times. And when I say crazy, I do mean cross-the-street-she-looks-like-she-might-bite-you crazy (sometimes). Some of my friends have been privy to the silliness and downright insanity of those times, and more than one of them has told me to BLOG IT. NOW. In the thick of the insanity, I never felt much like blogging (or breathing, for that matter, but hey... Keep on swimming!) Now, however, as I'm healing, I have realised that you might actually enjoy some of those stories, and so I've decided to create a new feature here. So, get your popcorn popped, your Kleenex packet open, and settle in for

Miss Boo Presents.... Shit You Couldn't Make Up

There will be thrills, spills, and probably more than a few grils. You can also expect a very unhealthy dose of weird-guys-in-bars, so stay tuned! Some of it will be outdated, but the thing with my life is that it seems to be a constant stream of Shit You Couldn't Make Up, so the likelihood of running out of material is minimal.

Until the next post, dahlings, stay silly!