I have been trying to pull myself together and write about the World Cup for quite some time. I really wish I had written throughout the month because now I just have to much to say. I LITERALLY don't know where to begin. This story may be muddled, so please forgive me, but I shall try my very best.
So South Africa hosted the World Cup. People feared that the crime would be so horrendous that entire hotels of foreigners would be stolen. People feared that terrorists from our neighbouring countries would suddenly attack, using anthrax and air-born AIDS to kill the Universe. People were wrong. We hosted the most beautiful and moving World Cup that I think has yet been seen.
But enough about that. We all know how wonderful it was. Let's rather talk about me. I like it that way.
During the World Cup I worked. I worked pretty much every day.
Between an online betting promotion at Caprice four times a week, working on the fan walk at all the Cape Town games, and working for the promotion company that I run here in Cape Town, I didn't have a holiday.
Firstly, although the promotion at Caprice (the Camps Bay beach bar), for lack of a better word - was absolutely shit - it was also great fun. To be honest we all got over working and made friends with foreigners instead. At times I felt like I was the only South African in the joint and if you happened to find another one, you would generally find yourself in a warm embrace, complimenting one another on our wonderful accents. I felt like a stranger in my own city but I wasn't complaining.
Men go to World Cups. Men. Lots and lots of men. I had a boyfriend at the time, so I was very well behaved, but that doesn't mean I couldn't bask in the greatness of the 18:1 ratio of males to females. Goodness were they friendly. I don't think I bought myself a single drink for a month.
Australians are the best. I just dig them, there is no other way to explain it. They are so similar to South Africans and I don't care what anyone says, I think their accents are just great. On two occasions I adopted a group of them and partied with them until early the following morning then went out for Chinese or an early morning, "Thank God we are still alive and haven't a) Been kidnapped and killed by Australians/Kayli" celebratory beer. Great fun.
The Brits were okay. You had to be weary. Some of them were atrocious. Drunk, rude and smelly - they would try and pick us up whilst we were working and throw us over their shoulders. It wasn't pleasant. Although hitting them in retaliation was quite rewarding. The pick up lines that came out of these men's mouths was vomit-worthy to the point where you would just stand there looking at them, unsure if they had some sort of debilitating disease which removed from them the self-respect and dignity which most of us live by. Thinking back, it was probably just the alcohol. But I mean really, a guy would walk up to you, give you a cheesy smile and say, "Hey baby, I just wanna *&;^%$#^%*(&;)*)(&;^^%&;^#^% to you right now". I had to censor that for fear of some sort of sex offender alert warning being sent to the police.
But now, I am getting tired. As much as I would love to continue, I must nap or I will not wake up in time for what ever it is that I have to do tomorrow. Something about TV and cars.
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