15 Again

Slightly drunk 15 year olds standing on a pool table, arms linked, drinks in hand, crying uncontrollably whilst “singing” wildly to good old Kel-dog, was a weekly occurrence in 2002 when Kelly Clarkson won the first season of Idols.

Last night something magical happened:

Kelly. Clarkson. Came. To. Cape. Town.

My best friend (the pool table owner) and I relived our youth as we jumped up and down, singing madly for two hours. We were surrounded on one side by a group of about ten 14 year old girls, who were being escorted by a frantic looking mother trying to keep tabs on all of them. On the other side was a large group of extravagantly dressed gay men, appropriately clothed in a combination of Kelly Clarkson T-Shirts and either leather pants, colourful skinny jeans or leopard print tights.

Jason Hartman opened the show. He wasn’t as bad as I expected; he croons away quite nicely. However, he happened to dedicate one of his songs to “all the sexy ladies in the audience” and since I know his fiancé, that didn’t bode to well for me. Ass.

Either way, at this point the 14 year olds felt the need to scream to the point that my ear buds began to throb in this strange way that I have never experienced before (maybe I am getting old), whilst the gay men just mumbled about how it was such a waste that he was straight. So while Jason strutted his stuff in his black silken blouse, sweating profusely and throwing cheeky winks at girls in the audience, we were anxiously looking at our watches in high hopes that “this will be his last song”!

By this point the anticipation had grown to such a degree that we were expecting fire, lightening, a flock of peacocks, a herd of white stallions and dancing wild cats alongside Kelly. At 8pm the moment arrived. Everything went quiet until the audience began its roar and then, the music began.

Her performance was absolutely flawless. Geez can that woman sing. She hit every note and entertained us through out, bouncing around the stage like the excited children (and older folk) in the audience. And the most important bit – it was actually her singing. No lip sync, nothing. Just pure, natural talent.

That’s the thing about Idols; the contestants who get to the final stages are very talented artists. They aren’t just a pretty face, where huge technical teams adjust every word they sing, in order for them like something other than cats on heat.

It was an awesome night and so worth having most human beings laugh at me when I excitedly told them that I was going. I know they were all secretly jealous anyway.

Funny thing, it all came full circle when one of the 14 year olds commented to her friend “Her songs really do sound like they were written just for us”.

The gays just sauntered about, shaking their booty’s on the d-floor.

Lets Paint Ourselves Blue and get Fakked.

“YOU APPLIED TO UCT BUT YOU DID NOT GET IN!!!!!!!!”

Was stuck in my head for roughly 43 hours. That is a long time to have a song stuck in your head. It has also felt like quite a long time for those in my company, as at random yet quite frequent intervals I tend to burst into song. Funnily enough it is yet to be followed by applause.

On Monday night was intervarsity. I’m not the greatest rugby fan, although I do appreciate a good (looking) rugby player, but something strange happened on Monday night. Something very strange. Actually, stop. Let’s go through some background information.

Prior to studying at Red and Yellow I was at UCT. I had never been to an intervarsity match before as I figured that it just wasn’t really my vibe. This year however, when all my friends said they were going I had a major case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and decided it was time.

From the moment I whipped on my UCT Ikey Tiger supporters T-Shirt and slapped some blue stripes on my face and rummaged through the cupboard to find the blue Vuvuzela, I became a different person. Never before have I been so excited to watch rugby in my life. A few of us began the trip to Stellenbosch together and as soon as we crossed what UCT students call the “boerie curtain” the fear kicked in. For every Ikey supporter, there were at least 50 burgundy clad Maatie supporters rambling on in Afrikaans (and for a Durbanite, Afrikaans may as well be Ancient Gaelic).

After standing/pushing/bumping/whining/sweating/waiting in what was supposed to be a queue for about 30minutes inside we were. 20000 people. 5000 from UCT. As if via pure magnetism off we flocked to the swarm of blue and then the magic happened. No matter whether or not you knew one another, if you were wearing blue, you were best mates. Those in burgundy you eyed suspiciously, sometimes even throwing out a childish remark about how awful Stellenbosch/burgundy/the Maaties are.

From “YOU APPLIED TO UCT BUT YOU DID NOT GET IN!!” to “WE WON THE BOER WAR!” and even “F*** YOU STELLENBOSCH, F*** YOU STELLENBOSCH!” It was as if we were one person, one large, blue, rude person.

UCT may have lost the rugby (although I stand by the fact that we shouldn’t have) but I realised something very important: When people come together to support a common cause, no matter who you are, you become united. Gender, age, race and social standing become insignificant when you are grabbing shoulders with a sweaty, beer-drenched stranger, whilst jumping up and down to the chorus of “A U! A U! A UCT!”.