At the risk of this blog becoming little more than a weirdly candid series of posts detailing my eventual and inevitable total failure to be a proper human being there are some things that have been perturbing me of late.
I am getting more and more drawn into the world of Nora Roberts, romance novellist extraordinaire. It's not even trashy (read graphic) romance either. It's like proper "her pleasure drove her to the peak of the mountain and down over the other side into the valley of dreams as he ravished her"-type romance. But goddamnit, she spins a damned good yarn. Better, I suppose, than the weird vampire romance/porn/sci-fi/street-fighting "novel" I was so entranced with this time last year.
Last night the lovely ladies that I teach English to were joking that I needed to find a nice boyfriend and then I'd stay in Berlin. And what did I reply to these lovely women who PAY for me, as a PROFESSIONAL, to TEACH them stuff? "I like boys who are in rock and roll bands". Good one, Super Teacher.
I had a sex dream about Kerry Katona last night. I really don't think this one needs much explanation. That and I really, really don't want to talk about it.