El Sandenbergh, Dirty Sanchez and Robert Downey Jnr 

One day you are sitting around teaching the co-anchor to read, write and eat Purity baby food, and the next moment she turns 21. One moment she was saying “Heffalump” and the next moment she turns 21 and we have taught her that it is in fact “Elephant” Ah to be released into the world…

The theme of the 21st, held on the 12th of October 2007 at Pastis in Constantia, was “Anything American”, due to the fact that the SLXS co-anchor(We have a female co-anchor for purposes of diversity…not the old old wooden ship though) is American. So I decided to go as a Mexican. She said “You can’t go as that, it’s supposed to be American” To which I nonchalantly replied, in my head “Ever heard of North America pumpkin tits?” Clearly not wise to the geographical positions of various parts of the world. Very cute. Cuddly even.

Anyway, the night started off at Casa del Sandenbergh(AKA The Hout Bay Palace), where I was to meet Alain and JJ, the masters of the house. I arrived with a bottle of sparkling and some energy drink, which was punished in literally 15 minutes as Alain and myself decided we were going to tear the night apart, into little pieces, and then destroy and obliterate those little pieces. After getting well and truly on my horse, and deciding that the party was going to be my sunset, I rode towards it. Casa del Sandenbergh is not a place for tea and biscuits. It is a place that was put on this earth for the purposes of large scale excess.

The trip to Pastis is a quick one from Casa del Sandenbergh, and we were there in a flash with the driver. I will now refer to ourselves as the characters we went as. Sean Lloyd, your editor, as Sanchez. The Dirty One. AKA Dirty Sanchez. Mike Pearson AKA BMP as John Rambo. Two tickets to the gun show included. Jaco as a washed up American movie star. AKA Robert Downey Jnr. We were all set for a night of debaucherous proportions.

Upon entry to the famed Pastis in Constantia, we were met by a sight that clearly the doctor had ordered. The waiters from Pastis were standing there with an assortment of shooters. Red, white and blue. We were ordered to take one. I took two. We then literally walked another two metres and were ordered to take another shot. This was ridiculous! I mean I’m not a drinker…but once it hits your lips it’s just so good! It was like choosing the pills in The Matrix, only these ones just made us all hilarious and then later we would fall down the stairs going to the bathroom. Seriously, have a good look at the stairs leading to the bathrooms at Pastis. Innocent until tackled liquored.

We walked in and said our hello’s to everyone including Bevvy, brother Che, Debs, Mary, Britter…the whole crew literally. I felt like a rock star as I walked in and everyone wanted to say hello to me. I think they were all just drunk though. I NEVER get that type of reception. Ever. The last time I got good reception like that was on my cellphone.

I think a night like this, where 80 or so people are invited,and the whole of Pastis has been booked, and there is an open bar, (Cue Farva in the movie Super Troopers shouting “Open bar dude!!!”) it is always going to end in tears. I mean, if it’s free, then it’s for me! You are inclined on nights like these to start smashing vodka Red Bull right from the start, without warming up lightly. This in addition to the sparkling and USN Energy Spike that I was being served at Casa del Sandenbergh. On such an auspicious occasion, nobody was even invited if they were not going to go tits off. We literally had free reign of the bar and the words “Jager bomb” were probably the nights most popular.

Sober. Notice the infant co-anchor in the photo on the back wall. Cuddly. 

I’m still tempted to do the “Jager Atom Bomb” Seriously, I made this up and it’s the first time you will hear it. It’s obviously completely OTT and excessive, but that’s why you read SLXS, correct? You take a standard bucket that you use for washing floors, and put it in a black trash bin. Not the municipal ones from Cape Town, but the smaller ones. You then fill the washing bucket with Jager(About 5 litres I guess) and then top the black bin up with Red Bull to be level of the washing bucket. BOOM!

You have a Jager Atom Bomb. Also called a JAB, because it will JAB you in the side and most probably leave a lasting bruise. Or at least it will JAB your kidney out.

Back to the party…We all arrived with our A game. Not only that, we all had our game faces on. Later on in the night, it would feel as if I had fallen off my face, which I indeed had.

One of my highlights of the night was yours sincerely stumbling down the treacherous stairs to the Pastis bathroom, and someone with a decent sense of humour had switched the ladies and guys signs around. Now it’s not that I have not visited Pastis before, but in the state I was in, I went into the girls bathroom anyway. Which was labelled to be the guys..Something should have struck me as odd when I walked in.

For one, there was only one toilet. There were no urinals. And there were rose petals everywhere. I still remember saying in my head “Wow, this is quite pretty” Which was a weird thing to think, being a man who built the Eiffel Tower out of brawn in addition to inventing the wheel.

I swayed into the bathroom, and went about swaying while I was going about my business. Now you might not want to hear this, but in order to be taken on a journey through Cape Town by me, I think we need to know a bit about myself. I’m not afraid to give you some details of my life, if it helps you understand my writing better.

The Dream team. The Editor, Charlie V and BMP. 

Maybe I missed the toilet a bit and you know…hit the floor. I was cool with this though because in my eyes it was a guys bathroom. Guys are cool with this. So I zipped up, without catching anything in the YKK zipper( The worlds largest zip manufacturer according to Wikipedia) You are probably using a YKK zip as I speak. Have a look. Come on, get down there and look. You know you want to.

I then walk out of the toilet…and my mind was nearly blown to little pieces. Two stunners (No names…just letters of their first names…T & D) had walked into the girls bathroom, and as I came out of the toilet, they just stared at me. I had no idea what to say. I was like a deer in the headlights. I mean, I was ready to run. I never even said anything to them, I just left. Now they were going to go into the bathroom and think that I am a complete disaster. Firstly, I use the girls bathroom, then I go mess the bathroom up. Way to gain popularity! Why does it always rain on me? You know what…this could make quite a catchy tune. Maybe even start a band called…off the top of my head…Travis? And then sing a song called “Why does it alway rain on me?”

No that’s actually a pathetic idea, that would never work.

But this is what happens at these 21st birthdays, things just tend to get crazy. It started at 7pm(And we were there promptly), with compulsory shooters on arrival and an open bar. How can this night end up being normal?

Further into the night after having more Red Bull than was necessary, I went outside to where the Entourage was sitting, and I started doing my famous Ali impression, where I bang a table, and then shout “The champ is here! The champ is here!” Somehow, in the process, I managed to cut my finger on a piece of broken glass, or a splinter, and the blood rush was hectic. For a while though I never knew that my finger was cut. So I just kept hitting the table, when suddenly felt that my hands were wet. I had been hitting the cut on the table, and now blood had sprayed all over my white shirt(By this time my poncho was off as it was a little hot)

I must have looked like something out of a horror movie. This did not stop me from going to Claremont later in the evening with the same shirt. Come to think of it, it’s quite disgusting. I should probably not tell all of you about it. But you need to know a little bit about me. I mean, for the most part I am a man of mystery so I can reveal little details. Sorry to those people who saw me on the night. Apologies to the Tiger Tiger bouncers for trying to get in like that!
With parties like this…It’s just that…one moment you are on the dance floor thinking you are Brad Pitt…and the next moment people are staring at you like you are an arm pit(Heads up to BMP for that!). And that’s the predicament I was in.

‘Ello Da’ling! Checking the co-anchor for proper form. About average. 

The speeches are blurry…I remember Brit’s father saying something of how when she was young he used to take her to the pub, and this is clearly where her drinking pedigree comes from! Literally a drinking pedigree to put many of us to shame. I am continually shamed when my head starts spinning and I make a quick exit.

I also remember dancing with Jerry D, literally grinding into him. Sexy times. Someone even came over to me in the night and said, in a round about way, if Mike was my boyfriend, after I was dancing with Mike like a cheap stripper. There was also the dance with Bev where I bent over and pretty much dropped her. Sorry Bev! She is so tiny though, like the smallest little infant child. Then I danced with Debs and who knows else. I pretty much danced with everyone. Apologies all around, my dancing is quite bad and quite disturbing for young kids to see. Give them eyepatches and put the ear muffs on.

The co-anchor let me know well before the party that there would be helium balloons on the ceiling, and I remember telling her that people would start inhaling them during the evening. She warned me that we were not to do this. But that’s like telling Charlie V to “Not press the red button” Give him 5 minutes and he will press it! So by the time the party was teetering off, literally 133 balloons had vanished from the ceiling. I was popping them, putting them in my shirt to make myself look pregnant and inhaling them at a rapid rate. I can’t remember how many I inhaled over the evening. Ten?

There are parts of the night that elude me, almost as if they have been Photoshopped from my vast memory. If I do find them, I will post them right here!

Pastis is the ultimate hangout though, and it does not feel like a bar or restaurant, but rather it feels like home. I will do a proper write up once I go there when it is normal trading hours i.e. No open bar and when it is open to the public.

For the evenings shindig, Pastis did the catering of the food, and it was…AWESOME! I’m not joking, some of the best food around. Look, I was ten drinks down so…But really it was brilliant and you should try it.

But in the meantime get down there, it’s a great spot.

Here are the details:

Pastis

Shop 12

High Constantia Centre

Constantia Main Road

Constantia

7800

Western Cape

South Africa

For the Pastis website, click HERE

Sean Lloyd

Editor