Tag Archives: bridget jones cape town

How I Met Your Father: Cape Town’s Bridget Jones strikes f***ing again!

Kids,Ā  as you know, I was the living Capetonian embodiment of literary heroine Bridget Jones … over the course of my 20s and 30s, I’d managed to lose my bikini top in public, exposed my considerable buttocks to shocked New Yorkers and got a label stuck in my hair whilst spending a night in the company of a crush.

I really wish I could tell you I’d overcome these embarrassing moments in 2018 but alas…

Here are two times I wish I’d stayed at home downing a bottle of champers and sang along along morosely to Celine Dion instead:

cape town bridget jones
Image credit: http://www.prevenzione-salute.it

The pre-non date vodka spill:

The one I caught feelings for had invited me out to a show and dinner and I was nervous as f***.

Technically, I should not have been spending any f***ing time with him alone, I know, but look, my heart and flesh were weak, ok? Quit judging me!

On your aunt Lee-Anne‘s suggestion that I have a shot of Dutch courage to calm the f*** down, I set off to down the last of the left over vodka in my fridge … but I didn’t have a shot glass.

What’s a desperate girl who refuses to drink directly from the bottle to do in these dire circumstances?

Why, pour a shot in a Benylin medicine cap, of course.

Yes, really…

And of course, OF COURSE, because I was utterly f***ing nervous and shaking like a druggie needing her next f***ing fix, I half-missed my mouth and poured most of the goddamn drink down one side of my neck and onto my dress.

NOOOOOOO…..

Me, on a call with your aunt Lee, shortly after this monumental disaster:

“Lee! LEE! For f***’s sake, help me! Does vodka smell?”

Lee, after laughing at me for a full five minutes (because she is SUCH a great friend): “No, dumb ass. Relax. Wash it off, spray some perfume and chill the f*** out!”

Not that the half shot helped plenty because the non-date confused the f*** out of me even further but hey, at least Lee had a good chuckle, right?

Sigh..

The holey-moley work day:

I’d been going from meeting to meeting all morning, wowing my co-workers with my epic ideas and generally thinking I was the shit when…

I got to the restroom to pay homage to Mother Nature and pulled down my tights, only to realise there was a hole the size of my bloody fist in it!

Since I very rarely sit like a lady, I’d most certainly been flashing all and f***ing sundry all day long.

Sweet Mother of Dragons, could my inner Bridget Jones please f*** off?!!

How I Met Your Father: Cape Town’s Bridget Jones strikes again!

Kids, my inner Bridget Jones has the uncanny knack of emerging at the most inappropriate moments like…

December 2017…

I was in the middle of explaining to my colleagues how I was sometimes tempted to reply to the infernal “what is the temperature like at the top of the mountain?” question that I needed to check my boobs.

As I ended this punchline with a demonstration of fondling my right breast. in walks the hired catering hottie. Silence reigned as my fellow ladies and I waited for his response.

With a bemused grin, Hottie McFly says:

“Oh, don’t stop on my account! How do you check the temperature on top?”

I blushed fifty shades of red and walking away giggling shyly.

giphy
Image credit: Giphy

Why, Gods, WHY?!!!

why me
Image credit: Tenor

How I Met Your Father: A PSA to smug marrieds and otherwise attached people

Kids, today’s abject lesson in why people should mind their own gods-be-damned business comes in the form of a public service announcement I wrote in September 2017.

Have a gander at this:

Dear Smug Marrieds and Otherwise Attached People (including my f***tard of an Uber driver the other night),

54aa47f7-9ab0-4e14-a55d-d1933af10fee_text_hi
Image credit: Yarn

This evening I had to listen to one of your ring-wearing,boring AF breathen tell me that, and I quote, “You’re 31 and still not married? Being married is then so nice! What’s wrong with you?”

The answer, in short, is NOTHING!

Why the f*** do you assume that because I do not have a ring on my finger and I am not attached to a man/woman, that there is something wrong with me?

Newflash, you idiots, singledom is not a f***ing disease!

ca29d1366dce88fe0f96b7ba6eeee997
Image credit: Pinterest

Just because you cannot live without someone to check in with and share your every goddamn move all day everyday, someone to cook,clean and care for and vice versa, someone to share a bank account with, someone to moan to your friends and mother about when they inevitably do not live up to your expectations, does not mean that I have to do the same.

Please, for the love of the gods, leave me be. I am a successful, independent, beautiful and happy young woman with a searing passion for love, life, travel, magic, family, friends, Alexander Skarsgard and Game of Thrones.

The next time you feel the impulse to bless me with your unsolicited comments about my singleton status in person or online ( I swear to the gods if I get one more “I’m so glad that I no longer have to deal with online dating woes” from a newly coupled blogger, I will burn their sites down, Wight Viserion-style!), don’t!

viserion
Image credit: Vanity Fair

And don’t, I am begging you with tears in my big, beautiful, brown eyes, say shit to me like “When you are in a relationship, you’ll understand” when I wonder out loud why the f*** you gave up all of your individuality for a partner who doesn’t appreciate you.

If that is what passes for love and committment these days, you sir/madam, can keep that shit to yourself.

I am only going to say this once, so listen carefully:

I am not:

  • Too picky
  • Too full of myself ( I am f***ing beautiful, intelligent and amazing. I deserve the best!)
  • Inferior to you ( treat me with the same respect I do you)
  • Too old to wait (some people only find their equals later in life)
  • Too difficult (I know what I want and who I am. If a man can’t deal with that, that is his f***ing problem!)
  • A man hater ( trust me, if you had to see my browser history or my past loves, you’d know I love men)
  • Child-adverse ( children are drawn to me like magnets and my ova are screaming out to be fertilised)
  • Too independent ( utter this shit to me and I will bitch slap you!)

Yes, I am a Destiny’s Child poster girl and I am f***ing proud of it!

I’m not sorry my singledom makes you squirm because you’re secretly jealous of my freedom.

Go f** with someone else’s mindset.

Love,

Fazielah

 

 

 

 

 

How I Met Your Father: Cape Town’s Bridget Jones strikes again!

“First date and you’ve sprained your ankle, huh? Tough break, my dear.At least he’s sticking around for now… maybe this will lead to better things”

This, Kids, is what Sharon the mystic healer was saying to me as she tried to infuse healing energy into my bruised ankle, whilst simultaneously trying to reassure me that my first date with Hellrider83 was not as disastrous as I thought it was.

She lied… it was!

In a spectacular imitation of my literary and cinematic heroine, Bridget Jones, I had managed to sustain a horrible ankle injury by slipping on the wet ground outside of Cavendish Square, on a busy Saturday morning with hundreds of witnesses.

bridget jones falling ski
Image credit: Pinterest

Under any circumstances, this would have been embarrassing but , because this is my life and the Universe loves f***ing with me, this also just happened literally moments before I was to meet my latest OkCupid hottie for our first date.

Kill.Me.Now

kill-me-now-alexander-skarsgard
Image credit: http://www.teen,com

As Sharon so sweetly tried to smooth down my billowing dress ( remind me NEVER to wear that ill-fated polka dot dress to another date!) so onlookers would not see my multiple tummy tuck-in tights and the security guards called for the first aiders, Hellrider83 came to find me.

Cue the awkward “So sorry about this. Could we possibly reschedule our first date?” conversation, with Sharon and co listening in.

Seriously…ground swallow me whole!

that-would-be-great-yeah-so-if-the-ground-could-just-swallow-me-up-that-would-be-great
Image credit: Meme Generator

To his credit, Hellrider83 stuck around for the mucho embarrassing wheelchair ride through the mall and even offered to go with me to the nurse at Dischem to have my ankle wrapped but he looked hellavu relieved when I told him to go , I’d be fine and I would text him.

Which I did, and apologized profusely for my Joneseque behaviour and ….not a peep out of him. Nada, zilch, zero after three days. I’d been dumped, again, before even being dated.

F*** it! NEXT!

I wouldn’t mind, really, but by then, EVERYONE in Cavendish Square knew that this poor girl twisted her ankle whilst on a first date… the pity looks, the “Shame, my dear!” comments while trying to stop their tears of laughter running down their cheeks, were not doing my fragile ego any favours.

tumblr_o7dsswmwWv1utblflo1_500

Why did the dating gods hate me so much?!!!