Did my first hip hop class last night. To Dontcha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me.
Ches has endured much with our dancing lessons.
And the instructor doesn't have much faith in my disinclination to be Rihanna.
I mean I'm trying hard here – who do I need to blow to be a Pro20 cricket cheerleader besides Ali Bacher? - but now she's suggesting I slap a 'left' and 'right' sticker on each of my feet.
Because I'm retarded with left/right. Always have been.
Knees have taken a beating, what with the breakdancing stuff. They're all bruised and hardcore now.
Anyway, Dove came over for some sushi at mine last night. She's had but the shittest luck with pets.
Her first hamster she squeezed so hard by mistake, that its eyeballs popped out of its albino head. Good God.
The second pet, a cat, the iron fell off the ironing board and killed it instantly.
Her horse had to be shot because it had chronic cholic, and then her second cat got burnt.
Am craving bacon. Didn't see but a stitch of the stuff for a week. Didn't realise how odd life was without the good crispy stuff.
And on that note, I'm emailing Usher today about his last album with which I am obsessed. This operation may be as fruitless as asking for bacon at an Israeli restaurant, but you only get to be an over-keen eccentric once.
I'm planning on buying a shitload of new underwear over the weekend. Someone I know has started her own underwear line and is having a champagne and lingerie day on Saturday. Bring it the fuck on. Even if no one is seeing my underwear at this very point in time, I know I'm wearing it. And the more lace and ribbons, the better.
And look, it's only a month until Argentina. Someone there might be privvy to my under rods, it's not out of the question. I can't believe it – one month. This year's travels have been fast and frequent.
And frankly, they've been the highlight of my year. The travelling has kept me sane.
The shit on the side of my bath is exemplary. Mineral bath salts from the Dead Sea (Israel), olive body scrub (Greece), shine shampoo from Lush in the UK, and a Leprechaun-shaped shower gel.
Was kidding about the Leprechaun shower gel, I actually bought Leprechaun-shaped chocolates.
One month until I leave a trail of destruction in my wake in South America.
They'd better be prepared. I know I am, with my decoy handbag filled with bubblewrap and hip hop moves that look like Patricia Lewis attempting to be like Jennifer Lopez, but caned to the eyeballs and sporting a camel toe.