Tomorrow has to get here a bit faster…

Going to work after too many drinks the night before is never a good idea. First, you have to drag yourself to work, and then at work, you *do* have to concentrate. Therein lies the problem.

Last night was my mom’s colleague’s wedding. Was held at the Shangri-La, no less, but the wine and champagne was very good, and the food was not bad either. Mom and dad were seated at a different table; this, I am told by the bride, was deliberate – so that I got to be with all the young people. Hmm. Conversation at our table was extremely stilted, though I did get to talking with the bride’s cousin quite a bit, which was her intention, I guess. Got a lot of compliments on the outfit (silver-gray dress, silver shoes, silver bag). Mom insisted that I wear her crown jewels (the rather large emerald); there was momentary panic on my part when I realised I lost one of the diamond rings I was wearing (of course, not mine ) The hotel was quite good though, once I told them, they dispatched almost 10-15 guys out in the hall searching. Luckily, the ring turned up safely – near the dinner table. Whew. Of course I thanked them profusely. The bride had plenty of gay friends, and they were extremely boisterous, which may explain why I got so high so quick… All those bottoms up….

So after a good night, then comes work. Started off slowly enough, but things got really mad quite quickly, and then of course mom was giving me a lift back and I was rushing something for a client and she was calling and bugging me to hurry up… Needless to say, I wasn’t in a very good mood by the time I got in the car. Add to that my aching head (from last night) and you would know why. OH – and I had to go out in the middle of the day (read: scorching hot sun) to go to two different banks to get some documents. Of course, that did not do my aching head any favours.

Going to call it an early night tonight. As soon as my hair dries….

A matter of interpretation

A very close friend once called me a slut. Obviously I was quite taken aback, because 1. it’s an extremely strong word; and 2. her tone of voice was matter-of-fact, with no malice or spite behind it. I didn’t know whether to take offence or not, because of that. But upon reflection, it IS insulting – because to me, “slut” means a woman who f***s every man that she takes a slight fancy to. And that is NOT me.

I think there is a big difference between being a flirt and being a slut – a flirt is simply that: someone who enjoys teasing the opposite sex (or the same sex, depending on your orientation) without going into anything else. To say that I am a slut implies that I sleep with the men that take a fancy to me – and I would like to reiterate that I DO NOT go that route. Sure, I get a (some would say unhealthy) “high” when men pay me some attention, especially if they admit to being sexually attracted to me. Like I said before, it does not help your confidence much, being overweight all your life. So when attention like this comes around, forgive me if I say it, but I enjoy it.

I thought that my friend was wrong to say that I am slutty, but there is another friend among the same group who sort of agrees – though she would use the word “cheap” rather than “slut”. I take offence to that word too, because to me, they mean the same thing – it implies someone who sleep around. And I don’t do that. I am a one-man woman; I may flirt, but I stay faithful – I don’t get physical with the men I flirt with, when I am attached.

I am on this topic because I find it quite curious that the people who know me for so long have come to that conclusion about me – that I am cheap – while others, who have admitted known me for a shorter period, agree with me, that being a flirt is not tantamount to being a slut. I find it particularly telling because the two girls in question (meaning the ones who DON’T agree that flirt = slut = cheap), who by all appearances would look religious and therefore would seem conservative (they are both Muslim and wear tudungs), appreciate the difference between being a slut and a flirt. And THAT I find refreshing.

I plead temporary insanity!

I had a feeling I was out of my head, and I was right – it was a mad thing to agree to.

I thought it would turn out to be a bonding exercise, instead it turned out to be a lesson in patience. When I saw the list in which everyone had signed up, it looked like a nice sizeable group – 10 or 12 of us thereabouts. In the end, only 7 of us turned up – and we had to spend the first hour waiting an hour for the 7th to turn up, and miss the flag off in the process. Minor has-been celebrity (ooh the claws! Watch the claws, Eugenia ) or not, you DO NOT keep 6 other people waiting for you, and you do your research before you decide you want to drive to massively crowded event (ie where to park and how to get there).

Then of course, there was the heat. It was really stinking hot, and I KNOW my optimum temperature is 22-25 degrees Celsius, and walking in 30 Celsius is not my cup of tea. Together with thousands of other people, it was a miracle I didn’t blow up – literally. And to those people who brought their dogs and babies – hey, people: it’s called ABUSE (Seriously, if you saw the poor dogs at the finish line, you would understand).

The walk/run was 10 kms (way too long if you ask me) and I managed 7-8 out of the 10 kms. Not bad, considering my aim was 5 km, and I was having diarrhoea (plus it was that time of the month) at 3 a.m. that day. Sounds like excuses, but am glad I lasted most of it.

I dunno if I would consider it fun, but it was an experience. Highly unlikely I would repeat it, though (but if you gave me $20,000 I would definitely think about it ).