Today’s favourite: ‘Big naked testicles’.

I myself favour a less pendulous bollock, but who am I to judge?

Is this how Hef feels?

Looky…

You say eyelashes, I say eyeluscious. (I know, not my best work…)

*Oops* not appropriate office wear. Who knew?

Not that I want to advocate the demon ciggies, but I think the tee my friend G-Banger designed is the fabu.

Who knew the VM was a closet Malboro fan?

Apparently Kanye West thinks they’re the shiz too. Tsk, he just wants to be me

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From my first [insert air quotes] serious relationship aged 18 with a man 12 years my senior, I’ve always been on Team Older Man. Even the fact he was allergic to his own sweat and had a penchant for faux leopardskin didn’t dull his old-dude allure.

*Coughs* Unresolved father issues *Coughs*.

So imagine my surprise having just entered my third decade to find that nubile young men are coming out of the woodworks, all [insert ghetto voice] F.I.N.E. and showing interest in ‘lil ole me.

Is it my worldy air? My old-lady squishiness? Or did they read about me on the men’s toilet wall?

Whether it’s all or none of the above, I’m looking forward to seeing where this new trend goes. Specifically with the 25-year-old Brazilian model I’m seeing this weekend.

Does anyone know the Portuguese for ‘Well, if it’s good enough for Madonna…’?

Love this article in the weekend’s Observer. Join the Fauja Singh Appreciation Society on Facebook here.

What I did do, however, was fly to my London for a week and catch up with some of my favourite peeps in the world, and I’m currently in Australia with more of my faves preparing to celebrate my 30th tomorrow. Yikes.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a big fan of lists. I should clarify – not guest-lists or shopping lists, but Life Lists (yes, I am aware that the capital letters make me sound like a Tosser, but what are you going to do, eh?) So I thought I’d share with you Shoeboobies’ Dirty 30s Travel Life List (work in progress).

Writing it put a completely new spin on my bday. Less ‘Doom dooooommmm’, more ‘Ohhhhhh yeeeeaaah!’ And part of me thinks that just the act of writing these things down sets the cosmic wheels in motion.

Feel free to write me if there’s anything you think I should add:

• Be an extra in a Bollywood film
• Go to cowboy school
• Learn how to shoot a machine gun
• Trek up a very large mountain
• Wear a string bikini* on a beach in Rio de Janerio
• Cage dive with great whites
• Run 50 more marathons all around the world
• Learn to meditate in Bali
• Salsa dance in Cuba
• Ride a pushbike through at least five countries
• Dive with whale sharks
• Go to a rodeo
• Drive through the Australian outback in a ute named Harold
• Hang out with Mountain Gorillas

Here’s hoping it’s not so long between posts next time.

* Not my ass, unfortunately.

A list, you say? Well OK then.

1. Ummm…

2. Well there’s…

3. Death

*Ahem*. Can I start again?

Foot, Meet Mouth

As I hurtle cruelly towards my 30^th year, there’s only one thing of which I am certain: drop me in a social situation that calls for even a sliver of coolness and I will invariably muff it up.

There was the time I referred to myself as the ‘Nancy Drew of metrics’ during a job interview. Or the time I blew kisses at my CFO because I couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to kiss his cheek or shake his hand.

Add a cute boy to the mix and, well, I’m pretty much screwed. Picture if you will:

Shoeboobies and beau whom she thinks is The Shiz gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes as they lie on her single bed in a flat overrun by backpacking antipodeans somewhere in West London.

Shoeboobies: [Gushy sigh]

Former Beau: Oh, oh, ouch, owww.

Shoeboobies: [Alarmed but still adoring] What is it?

Former Beau: Owww, I’ve got my foot caught

Shoeboobies: [Sexily] Well, count yourself lucky if that’s the only thing you catch, Baby…

THE END

I know. Hots, right?

Which is why the thought of putting my money where my blog is and testing some of the dating tips in ‘Cosmo’s Guide to Meeting More Guys!’ (US Edition, June ’09, pg 108) has got me clenching muscles I didn’t know I had.

Let’s review the material, shall we?

‘Fresh Meet Markets’.

1. Local Campaign Headquarters

2. Long Tables at Restaurants

3. The Lunch Line at Chipotle

4. Behind the Scenes at a Big Event

5. Dodgeball or Kickball Leagues

6. Dude-Specific Book Signings

7. Sneaker Boutiques

8. Bike Co-ops

Hmmm. Which to choose? Alas, 1,4, 5, and 6 are out as they involve pre-planning.

2’s also a no-go – I am lanky of leg and inevitably flash my undercrackers when attempting to sit at long tables.

Chipotle? And say what? ‘Did you know that burrito has over 1,000 calories?’ (Knowing me, yes.)

By the process of elimination it’ll have to be 8: A bike co-op. Where, according to Cosmo, I should ‘ask a cutie there to show [me] a nearby trail.’

Wish me luck!

Ummm, one last thing… What’s a Bike Co-Op?

I’m almost certain he meant starting tomorrow…

Seems you say ‘blog about dating’ and boys hear ‘means by which to virtually grab hold of a man’s testes and ram them firmly up his left nostril, via the colon.’ Or something.

So I’d like to take this opportunity to briefly outline what Shoeboobies is. And what it ain’t.

IS

- Low-brow analysis of articles and books females consume in order to Get. The. Guy.

- Catalogue of ways I make a tit of myself through the medium of dating

AIN’T

 - Means by which to virtually grab hold of a man’s testes and ram them firmly up his left nostril, via the colon

So listen up, boys, ‘cause I’m only going to say this once…

I like you.

I like your shoulders.

I like the way you smell.

I like that you can strike big, important business deals but you can’t remember not to scratch your bollocks in public

WHEN ONLY THE BEST WILL DO FOR YOUR BOLLOCKS

I like that you don’t count calories.

I like that you’re always up for a laugh.

Hell, I even like the way you look naked

I don’t pretend to understand you, but I like you.