ke Dezemba...

The Dezemba period can be a bit of a bitch sometimes. That’s if chilling at home is as challenging for you as it is for me. One hour and I'm climbing up the walls. Ridiculous, eh? Inevitably you will more than likely go off and do something you will regret, but luckily that was not the case for me during the weekend.

The Heart FM party at the Old Biscuit Mill on Friday got kinda lame, but I don't regret venturing to see Harrison Crump on the decks. I’m surprised by the number of people who don’t know who he is. Suffice to say, they are of a lighter tan and prefer music of an acquired taste. The shortage of decent looking lasses was most disappointing, and probably half the reason the party was a drag. Plus it was also quite freaky seeing Matt abstain from booze. Just doesn't look right and I hope to never see that again.

Naturally, after the relative disappointment of Friday night, I had to put things right. New beginnings seemed to be the motif of the weekend, so I went to Drew's, formerly Greek restaurant, to see what they had done to the place that would make it different. As it turned out, not much. The only difference being the bar has relocated and is now big enough to sit more than two people, and more than one can fit behind it, granted you don't have someone of Big Pun's stature back there. Stomach in, chest out…

I remember when I first hit the club scene in Cape Town all those years ago, hopping from club to club in town, there was always "that guy" who could dance like a mahafaka, and every chick wanted to dance with him, and every guy wanted to dance like him. You know them types. Quite full of themselves, two bitches around their arms... on Saturday, I was "the guy". The last show got me my groove back, and then some of Justin Timberlake's as well for good measure.

We ventured to three spots (the names escape me), and I agitated the floorboards to just about everything the DJ threw up. I even served up a bit of Jika Amajika just in case my versatility was questioned. I was teamed up with a couple of Suthu girls, who can handle themselves on a dance floor pretty well. I got home at 05:30 and I was finished! I swear I crawled the distance from the gate to my bed, and that was not the Smirnoff Storms.

Now it's back to readjustment to the working week, the employer’s sadistic idea of “keeping our economy going”. Trust me, I can keep it going from the beach, no problem.