Enough about this, what about ME?
Ballet-Dancer*, Opera singer*, Oscar winner* & Air Guitar Champion*
(*Only in my bathroom mirror)
Lover of high-fives from strangers, random smiles and marshmallows.
My greatest regret in life is not being a billionaire.
Life is freaking awesome. And if not, it’s at least funny.
I live in Cape Town, South Africa. Land of vuvuzelas, laughter, biltong, multi-cultures and Nelson Mandela. Oh yes, I dropped the N bomb.
I was born at a very young age…Naked… in front of a room full of interns. The shame left me speechless for almost a year.
But ever since I began talking and walking, I have been saying things and going places…. it’s profound but true.
I work very hard at not having to work very hard. Using my voice, face, mind and body in different freelance media capacities to earn the greens. Or in South Africa earning ‘green’ is a ten rand note… so let’s say I wanna earn the “oranges and blues” which just doesn’t sound gangsta. But I guess I’m a skinny white girl and ‘gangsta’ isn’t really something I’m ever going to achieve. *sigh* I shall have to settle for being a ninja instead.
Distract me with sparkely things…
“I’m not a vegetarian, but I eat animals who are”
Enough about ME, it takes two to high-five…how about YOU?
Have a tale of Epic proportions?
Got a photos of a ‘high-five’ moment?
Noticed something that made you ‘lol’?
Catch a hobo doing Michael Jackon dance moves when he thought no one was watching? (I have)
Any Questions, Musings, Film-roles or book-deals?
Tweet me about it! @YesReallyAngel
Who doesn’t love a
The idea for this site hit me when a group of friends and I were wandering around at a three day rock festival, like dirty little hippies – day 2: hung over and drunk – Teetering between completely awesome and completely legless we were running around making airplane noises, laughing at blades of grass and randomly tackling each other to the ground. (Where I had the full weight of a grown man, launched gleefully into the air, land on my face – but it was ok, my nose broke his fall – and did I cry? no. I Laughed, hysterically. True story.)
Walking along, through the crowds of equal distributions of black, white, green and blue people – some of whom were hippies in last month’s dirt and tie dyed extremities. Some of whom were scary emo/metal/goth types who had come for the ‘rock’ part of the fest and of course, some were the normal breed of preppy waltzing along pretending to feel comfortable without a hot shower and gel in their hair. It was during this wonderous display of ‘awesome’ when one of the more forward thinking of the ‘Kutting Krew’ (as we have lovingly, and rightly, dubbed ourselves) took it upon himself to prove that “everyone loves a high five”. He began throwing up high-fives at every person who walked past.
And would you believe it, not one person rejected his upstretched, outreaching arm. Even the skinny sad emos, staring at the floor and stamping along, as if to try and inflict pain on the grass underfoot – darn it for being so green, and happy, and alive – even they lifted a hand for that one awesome moment of human connection. The satisfying ‘slap’ of skin meeting skin.
His point (and my point here,) got further solidified, when we were standing front row, right up against that metal barrier they erect infront of rock stages to protect you from the band going crazy and trying to eat the faces of the crowd (I can only assume is it’s purpose) – so there we were, a group of unkempt, noisy vagabonds (if you will) pushing up against the railing. Laughing, high-fiving and rocking (both “out” and “back and forth”)…. and there he was – a big, really big, Nigerian bouncer/security guard. Standing stoic in front of the stage, leering at us from across the ‘no-man’s land’ DMZ of grass. “Crowd control” I believe is his job description.
Believe me when I say, He was NOT amused.
But, not one to…
a.) Fear authority
b.) hold back ‘love sharing’
c.) think clearly about things before doing them
…my friend reached out his hand in the universal proffering of the random high-five – and there he defiantly held it.
We said things like, “Dude, leave him. He’s working. Don’t irritate him, he’ll rip out your throat”… but what was that? A movement from the security guard! Could it be?
Yes, it could. Forward he (begrudgingly) shuffled, raised his hand and slapped my buddy’s. With not one stitch of a smile. Almost with an air of “fuck-you” about him before he returned to his previous position, arms crossed across exploding pectorals. Blink and you woulda missed it.
But our uproar of cheers, applause and general JOY at his actions “Everyone loves a high-five!!! You ROCK, Security Guard!” made him crack a smile. Maybe it was because a bunch of white kids just went buck-crazy in front of him and he was laughing at us… but, I like to think that – really – the echo of that slap of skin hitting skin had lingered on his ‘Awesome Radar’ and it’s pretty hard not to feel happy after an epic high-five.
Thank you Mr. Scary Security Guard, may your future be filled with happy surprises. Smiles from strangers and random high-fives when walking down the street.
I dare you to try it. I dare you not to love it.
It’s gonna be huge.. It’ll go viral.
(That’s what she said! High-Five!)