The Hills Are (Barely) Alive

My little girl is at that stage when she wants to sing and dance all day. This is great apart from two small factors; I have two left feet and a singing voice which makes Mr Bean sound like Pavarotti. What could help?

Bvlgari Green Tea probably isn’t the first thing to spring to mind for most people but I reckon then gargling some tea of any colour might help improve my vocal chords. What’s that? It’s a perfume? Heck, it’ll probably still make me sound a lot better no matter what it is.

Could it be my choice of footwear which lets me down on the dance floor? Since moving to a warm country I have fallen in love with sandals but they don’t exactly let me slide across the floor in a rhythmic way. Perhaps a nice pair of Asics running shoes would let me dance like Fred Astaire. At least it it doesn’t work I can make a speedy getaway from the scene of my shame.

A hidden tribal name tattoo would certainly make me cooler but would it help me bring out the hidden hip hop star within? I fear that if I have a hidden hip hop star then it might be too well hidden for even an Innerspace style mission to help find it. Which is a shame really, bro. I guess some of us are born to wear bling and some of us are born to laugh up our sleeves at people who wear bling. The only item of bling I own is my wedding ring and I am not even sure that counts these days.

I am badly out of touch with the music scene, aren’t I? Just tell me one thing; are Dire Straits still cool cats? I think what I need to do is to subscribe to teen magazines again. I haven’t done this since, well, since I was a teenager I guess. I would love to read about how dreamy Justin whatshisface is and how cool Eazy Ice’s new hairstyle is. Respect.

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