Taking A Tour Of Kloof Street.

It was a Thursday evening, which meant it was time for some Thursday evening loving. The Girlfriend seemed to disagree with me on this issue however, as she kept spraying me with holy water whenever I approached her on the communal bed. A priest had given her a vial of the holy stuff during the recent Easter weekend, and I found myself cursing Father Flanaghan as the liquid burnt my sinful body, causing me to swear in tongues, and walk backwards on all fours, in a weird and unnatural manner.

With my initial idea for the evening put on hold, we thus decided to take a walk through Kloof Street instead, as it was a beautiful late Summer's evening, and I couldn't really remember where I parked my car. Even when the sun goes down, Kloof Street is usually abuzz with activity, and tonight was certainly no exception. We were kept fairly busy, as I found myself warding off the drunken vagrants with my long limbs, drop kicking them several metres back whenever they approached us for bread and milk, which they were OBVIOUSLY going to barter for cheap spirits.

The Girlfriend meanwhile, was using her pepper spray to fend off the various drug addicted white youngsters who can be found wandering the streets at night, ALL claiming to live in Fish Hoek, and ALL claiming to need R4 to get back home that evening. Kloof Street is a bit like Long Street, except that it's not as long, and doesn't suck half as much.

As we walked on, a musical montage suddenly started playing, showing the various places we would often frequent. To the backdrop of Justin Timberlake's "Sexy back", we looked back at the following venues:

Kloof Street of course boasts the world famous Asoka, one of our favourite watering holes. Many people may be familiar with his mom Dharma, but Asoka has now also made quite a name for himself, and I regularly seem to find myself at this establishment, staring down an empty glass of Jameson, wondering how the f**k I got there, and enquiring as to who would be sorting out the massive drinks bill we had just amassed.

Arnold's is also another favourite of ours, a regular pit stop on a Saturday or Sunday morning, when over indulgence from the previous night means I can just about crawl there. The helpful staff will then pick me up, dust me off, and feed me a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon through an intravenous drip, helping me feel like a new man whilst teaching me to speak coherently and walk upright again.

The Lifestyle Centre is like a pretentious mall, offering a Woolies, the Wellness Warehouse as well as the (not the real) Labia theatre. Woolies is Woolies, for those days when I couldn't be arsed to make food in the kitchen, and instead need the instant gratification of a bottle of Ken Forresters, to make the world seem like a friendlier place. The Wellness Warehouse is the place to get high fibre grass muffins, organic mud masks, and other weird hippy shit that cleanses my system, but then leaves me smelling like a used diaper, causing strangers to throw rocks at me in the street. The (not the real) Labia theatre normally offers off-beat films that Mnet would usually show on a Monday or Wednesday night, never over the weekends or as a Sunday premiere. Many a Marzan Gold has been drunk in the theatre, the bottles also coming in handy to hurl at the annoying guy who keeps commenting during the movie, the same guy who wears flannel pyjama pants during the day, and has a long term relationship with a styrofoam cup called Doris.

There's also a decent Nando's, a Kauai as well as two coffee spots on either side of the road. (Vida and Seattle). The Kauai was the scene of the first argument The Girlfriend and I ever had, when she leapt across the table and put me in a vicious headlock after I said that Jennifer Anniston was boring, overrated and probably really crap in bed.

There are also various trendy clothing stores, as well as really arb shops known to sell really arb things, like the luminous Marilyn Monroe tog back I bought The Girlfriend for when she gyms, which mysteriously caught alight and ended up in the street outside, before she had a chance to use it.

Yes, Kloof Street is a lovely little stretch of road. There are literally thousands of other places to talk about, but it's quite late right now and I just don't give a f**k. I'm tired and I need to sleep.

I was actually meaning to do a write up about Caramello's, where we spent the evening, but I kind of went off on a tangent a little bit.



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