Now, you are my kind of peeps, so it would be just fair to give you an intro. Just pick a day, any day of the week. They all look the same to me. Wednesday? Fine. 5am, me, wearing a pink mini skirt and pink shoes (I almost forgot the sparkly stars on them), pink headband with some unknown flowers on it, training a big guy, I mean bigger than the biggest, muscles all over the place. He’s fine with my look. I kind of made him a national champ. While the session lasted, Hendrix chewing my metal rubbish bin and my only car key left while Max, the senior dog, vomiting all over my deck. Then morning tea time. Me making a coffee, nice and black, and pouring it into Hendrix’s bowl. By the way, he enjoyed licking it, but I didn’t enjoy staying awake the whole night while he jumped all over my bed…and face. That was after Hendrix swallowed a whole pack of Panadol (I didn’t even know I had pills in the house; maybe he bought them). At least he didn’t have the headache I had after realizing I cannot drive my car without a key. I tried; it didn’t work! Then me again getting text message after text message until my vision got blurry and replying to my evening massage client the nasty and dirty text that supposed to be for one of girlies. Big oops, lots of apologies! In the meantime, Hendrix digging out completely a fruit tree and carrying it into the spa area. Just for fun! Then me again getting locked in my studio and forced to break a window to somehow get out while Hendrix, now the master of the house, making pieces my 1.5m metal lamp. At least it wasn’t pink! In the meantime Max eating the whole 5kg bag of dog food. But my best time that day was the one when I locked Hendrix in my car and forgot that I have no car key left. I told you that Hendrix already eat it. So, Hendrix in the car chewing my driving wheal while I watched hopelessly the whole thing disappearing.
Don’t worry, guys, the language was even more colorful than the Osbornes' one and it went on from early morning to late night. So you tell me now. Would you prefer watching all those false blondes and their stories or would you prefer a natural blonde going live and doing what normal people don’t? Once again, I am blonde, I can act dumb if you want me to, I have the dresses, make up and heels, I definitely can have the dirty language if Hendrix wants me to and I don’t have to put any effort into shooting the reality show. It just comes naturally; it is just how every day looks for me. The only thing I haven’t decided yet is the name of the show, but I’m sure that the producers would find something exciting. I told you I don’t need to get paid so if they cannot find a remarkable name, they would be able to pay somebody smarter to get it right! :)
Yours in fitness,