REALITY


Shhhh, dont tell anyone ……… and I mean no-one ……… I have a confession to make …….. I am seriously addicted to Reality Television.
Now in most instances Reality Television teaches me WHAT NOT TO DO in my reality:

For example:

1. I will NOT wait for hours to sing for live television in order to be the next Idol.

2. In the same vein I will not appear on live television in a chicken suit and sing.

3. I will NOT go and stay on an island with 20 strangers in order to lose because Icannot balance on a pole for 3 hours.

4. I will NOT have the intimate lives of my family be splashed over the International Media.

5. Jerseylishious is great – but would you want the world to see your girley work spats.

6. I dont think that I would like the blow by blow bad bits of my wedding (due to savvie editing) be shown to the world.

One of the Jewels in the Reality TV crown, however is Ruby – man I love Ruby. In a nutshell Ruby is a chick with a weight problem, in fact a 760 pound weight problem. She has to lose the pounds in order to live – to date she has lost half her body weight. Apart from her tenacity, what I love about Ruby is that she defies the theory that in order to be popular, employable, beautiful, funny and motivated you have to be thin. Ruby is one of the most attractive looking people I have ever seen, she has great, loyal friends, she is just real – she motivates me.

I digress. There is one RP (reality programme) which Frans and I have always said that we would be aces at. The Amazing Race – it a nutshell, various permutations of couples have to race around the world, overcomming obstacles, impossible tasks, common sense, bravery and through respect for each other, the first couple to arrive at the finish line wins a million bucks.

Now with Frans ability to navigate – well him and Jerry did make it to a rock in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean – and my generally sparkling personality, how on earth could we not be serious contenders for this race.

Well, we were put to the test….

For some reason, we have never made the trip to Cape Town in less than 12 hours (normal people take 6). We left home at 7 am to make it to the U2 concert exactly with just enough time to book into our B and B and go straight to Greenpoint. In order to do this we decided no Wimpy Stops, no Storms River stop, no Knysna stop – going to the toilet would be limited to sticking our bums out the car whilst in transit – we were going to make it.

Then came roadblock no. 1 – it was one of our friends 50th birthdays and she had arranged drinkies in Bishops Court and everyone would then hop onto a bus and be delivered very civvially to the Stadiums doorstep – we did not take into account Cape Town Friday afternoon traffic between Pinelands and Bishops Court (only 4 cm on the map!!!!), 6 stop and goes between home and CT and the fact that peeing from a moving vehicle is impossible.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we made it to the B and B with 1 1/2 hours to spare, made it through the mother cities horrific rush hour traffic and there we were in the leafy suburb of Bishops Court. Firstly I forgot the map to the house at the B and B, so we phone our mate. He wasnt quite sure how to get the house he was at, and to be quite honest neither did anyone else he put on the phone. We then resorted to Cel Phone Mapping – so off we were driving according to a telephone that kept on telling us to “turn left in 300 meters” in a really cheezy voice. After 30 minutes of listening to the phone we arrived at exactly the spot where we entered the suburb. Oh, and, the phone went dead.

Now to say the least the atmosphere was getting a little tetchy in the car. I was trying really hard to give Frans logical directions to a place I didnt have a clue how to get to, and, Frans was trying really hard to ignore any suggestion which I gave him.

Now I know (in Amazing Race Land) if you lose your cool with your partner it almost guarantees that you are going to be eliminated. So I was not going to lose my cool with SWEETHEART beside me.

Perfectly good direction givers at the side of the road were potential hijackers. Right became left, turn Left became turn Right, STOP became drive as fast as possible, turn around became drive straight for as far as possible. Ironically there seems to be a heap of roads in Bishops Court named after battlefields (note to the Cape Town Muncipality – the next new road in Bishops Court should be called Loots Street).

To cut this battle short – we finally made it to Kirstenbosch Gardens, and I said to Frans to stop at the enterace – he stopped 200 meters AFTER the gate – boy had we sunk to an all time low.

My phone rings – “where are you? The bus is ready to leave” – read we had missed drinkie poos.

“We are 200 meters from the Kirstenbosch Entrance”

“Great!!!!!! you are about 50 meters away from the house”,

Will I enter the Amazing Race with my husband. ABSOLUTELY!!!! Why?? you may ask – because it is incredibly satisfying having an arguement about directions, incompetance and a cheezy sounding phone – being able to live to tell the tale – Priceless. The Million would have come in handy though, well, maybe next time…..
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