I went swimming at the weekend because it was as hot as the inside of an Olympian’s gym shorts. I love to swim or just basically flail around attractively in the water while waves bash the hell out of me and force their way up my nostrils to make me splutter in a most ladylike manner, while trying to drag my shorts down around my ankles because no, right now I do not have a swim suit. I also, despite the factor 70 “fuck you” strength sunscreen, still managed to get some burn on my upper arms and nose. Basically I could coat my nose in peanut butter, gauze and whatever the hell that stuff is they make astronaut suits out of and I’d still get a burn there. I’m a pasty white enigma ladies and genitals. Envy me.
Usually on sunny days I resemble a mean alcoholic. You can spot me in a crowd by my large, red conk. It’s like a warning beacon. I could probably get employment by the coast guard to stand on top of cliffs to warn ships off the rocks. I burn, is what I’m saying. Religiously. My hair also lightens up and I almost look like a beach blonde Aussie surfer. It clashes awesomely with my lobster red nose and shiny forehead. It’s even MORE attractive than it sounds.
Still it was awesome because I like the water and I like summer and I aim to squeeze every last drop of sunshine out of it before it gets cold and I start to sulk for four months and whine about being cold. Basically this happens the second the mercury drops below 50 degrees. I wasn’t born to be cold, oh no. Still, every year I suck it up and dream about balmy summer nights while wrapped in a giant fleece sweatshirt and a frown.
Then, to start the week right, last night was what I call a “satisfyingly fat night” in that I spent it in bed eating brownies, crackers and cheese and watching “South Park”. I mean I defy the Queen to have had a more luxurious, ass-fattening evening than THAT. Go on Queenie, I defy you.