Post show palipitations
It was one of those nights...
You know the type - everything you say comes out wrong. At least I didn't call my producer 'Victoria' again. Poor darlin' Veronica... I have no excuse!! Maybe it's age... 23 and suffering from severe memory loss. That and a severe addiction to rice crackers.
I suppose as vices go, it could be worse. Glorfified nuggets of rice and air are hardly going to send me to an early grave. Although, I bet they affect memory... something that tastes so distinctly of nothing must surely be bad for the soul. And yet, I love 'em! So too, it seems, does half the female population. Somehow, without us realising, Snack-a-Jacks are the new Pringles - without the waist expanding qualities (or the taste - but dieters can't be choosers)
Enough of that - radio is the blog-worthy topic. I've got the Schla La Las to interview, The World's Highest Gig to research (rocking out at the base of Everest doesn't happen every day!) and gigs to go to. I also have to reduce my hips, bum and thighs before heading home to Australia. I know my listeners can't see me on air but I'll be donning a bikini when I hit the Gold Coast and 2 years of limited sun has left me loooking like Casper. Omigawd it has finally happened... I've become a pale English rose.
Or maybe a little sleep-depraved cabbage is a more fitting description.
Onwards! Lettuce and Miso soup - here I come. Gillian McKeith will be ever so proud.