How to Ruin a Good Vacation .............

.........Vacation with my mother!!! There I said it and I'm not taking it back. (unless my mama reads this statement,then this blog will have to come down with the speed of light. I might be an independent strong black blah blah blah woman but my mama is even stronger and even at twenty seven I still meet the criteria for being walloped to death lol). Okay so I'm back, scarred, bruised and heavily traumatised but back all the same. Who wouldn't be(scarred,bruised and heavily traumatised)after spending four weeks in the captivity of my mother? (disclaimer: this statement might have to be deleted at the speed of light lol)Seriously my mother has the energy, the intelligence and superhuman five senses that are sharp enough to sap the joy out of any good vacation. By 'joy' I mean men,nightlife and more men.

But having said that I had an amazing holiday. So much to tell and so very little time, but if one word sums up my SA holiday it would be SEX or lack of it but wait 'lack of it' is actually 3 words so SEX it is. Not that I'm confessing to having had any, how could I? My mother not only preaches abstinence but she damn well insures it is practiced with the ruthlessness of an African dictator. My mother is up there with the Hitchcock's or Mafia of the abstinence world. I swear she can detect the tiniest threat of sexual activity before you can even say the words bum skimming shorts or micro mini. Which is a shame, there is no point to having sexy legs if you cant put said sexy legs on display. My mother hypocritically states that thighs should be reserved for the eyes of a husband, but with the same mouth she tells my sister 'what kind of married woman wears such a thing' (thing in this instance standing for very tight micro shorts which ironically she was wearing for a night out with her husband at some random beach party. Clearly there is no pleasing some people ('some people' here completely refers to my mother lol).

Speaking of husbands, my mother hijacked my brand new sinfully expensive (according to my ever expanding overdraft lol) Christian Lacroix nightie (if you could call the flimsy material that). She claims I don't need any sexy nightwear, I don't have a husband. (*deep sigh* 'mum I do have sex you know', ) (Disclaimer: I did not say this out loud to my mothers face, I'm still young, I do not want to die, in fact I would rather let you cut me up into a million pieces or skin me to death than die at the hands of my mother). Apparently I'm not deserving of any sexy lingerie but she is, she did not have the decency to refund me my money, I did not have the suicidal nerve to ask for it. I refuse to imagine what she possibly got up to, or is getting up to in it. I do not want to be permanently emotionally scarred, but i am boycotting Christian L for life, I could never wear it again without having mental images I don't want to ever have, so future potential boyfriends please take notes.

Its a truth universally acknowledged that the sole purpose of going on a foreign holiday is to have sex with a foreign man (or depending on how adventurous you feeling, have sex with foreign men plural) . A safari or two might also be on the agenda, you might be suicidal enough to try bungee jumping or sky diving but ultimately nothing beats having sex with said foreign man. Okay i made that up, but whats the point of going on holiday if sex is not on your 'To do List' ? Speaking of sex, i dont normally kiss and tell but the most important lesson i learnt whilst in Mzansi (SA) was that if you intend on having 'sex on the beach' for maximum comfort buy a beach house, or more practicably have sex with a rich foreign man who already owns a beach house unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday removing sand from your down belows lol.

So I'm not sure if I managed to meet Buttercup(big sigh). I met a street hawker called Mercy (originally from Zimbabwe,but not a relation or acquaintance of Shona's lol) selling vhuka vhuka which she informed me is some kind of p*nis enlargement herbal sh*t, but she denied being responsible for those thoroughly annoying spam emails that fill up my junk folder stating 'Dear Miss DM would you like to enlarge your penis blah blah blah...' Coincidentally I also met a street hooker called Obianujuaku (yes I did ask her to write down the spelling). Apparently her name means 'born to plenty' or 'born to a rich family'. (obviously not that rich if she is plying her feminine wares in the dark alleys of Cape Town). Speaking of Obi I've just has a thought...buttercup I hope that wasn't you lol.

Speaking of hookers I also met a money guzzling, fame hungry,man eating gold digga who was heavily disguised as my brother's girlfriend (lol my mother's words not mine). She loves my mother with the passion of a girl who fears she might be left off the shelf and knows that the way to my brothers heart is through my mother and of course his wallet. My mother in turn treats her with so much contempt, I cant remember my mother disliking anyone so intensely or with so much passion....actually I do, my brother's previously girlfriend who foolishly informed my mother she was 'a non believer'. My mother was incredulous I think little miss non believer holds the Guinness world book record for being thrown out of a house at the speed of lightning.

I've been blubbering non stop, you see I missed you guys,its certainly good to be back to civilisation (by civilisation I mean any place away from my mother lol....you know I love you mama.)