Last week we imagined a wonderful world in which I am the next Bachelorette Australia and countless (well...18) well-dressed men in their 20s and 30s are desperate for me to glance their way. Which isn't that far from the truth of my day-to-day life really (guess that's why it's called 'reality' TV). Time for part 2 of my fantasy casting.
This year, producers have made the interesting and frankly genius decision to cast Sophie Monk as the leading lady. But let's pretend for a second that they didn't. Let's imagine they cast someone else. Someone closer to home. Or closer to my home at least, because we’re pretending they cast me.
I’m not going to pretend that anyone really cares about this blog enough to have missed its semi-regular updates (insert obligatory and unconvincing “oh but we have...definitely...so much...cry ourselves to sleep every night” from the audience), but I still feel the need to justify my six-month absence.
In 1971, some dude with too much time on his hands sent the world’s first email. Ever since then, in offices across the globe, people have been misusing email to frustrate and irritate their colleagues.
A few months ago my brother got married, and like any sensible person with half a brain he asked me to put together the playlist. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, creating killer playlists for any event in your life is easier than ever. All you need is a premium Spotify account and decent taste in music.
As you will know if your stalker diary is up to date, I have been in Canada for just over a week now and this experience more than qualifies me to make a complete and final assessment of this nation as a whole.