Rodeo Drive where everything for me is a gift and Ms Prada asks me for my opinion.
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Your own personal heaven... watch
- 03-08-2004 12:30
(Original post by F. Poste)
- 03-08-2004 12:43
Because A) I'm in a random mood, with no-one to take it out on; B) I like asking random questions; and C) There's nothing on UKL I feel like posting on, I'm going to pose this question to you all:
For some reason, you're dead, and as you've been very good, you've been rewarded with your own personal heaven. What's it like??
Rep for the most creative, detailed and amusing descriptions
- 03-08-2004 13:27
I wake up, alone, in the comfiest bed ever and underneath the biggest, fluffiest duvet you've ever seen in your life. I get up, go for a little stroll round a park, where kids are playing on the luscious green grass. A football rolls near my feet - I look up, and some kids ask me to join in their game, which I do. Obviously being older than them and so highly highly skilled in footballing terms (this is heaven remember) I display super dazzling flicks and tricks, but allow the kids to tackle me and pretend to be distraught. I go in goal, and purposely let some goals in (Grobelaar eat your heart out). The kids are really happy - I'm really happy.
I stroll back home, make some toast, put some Razorlight/Keane/REM on the super surround sound 25 speakers in every room sound system. I eat the toast and relax in front of my 50 inch widescreen TV on which I choose some DVDs to watch, a selection of the finest in British comedy - Alan Partridge, The Office, Spaced, The Day Today, Fawlty Towers, Monty Python - they're all there. I watch them, then get ready to go and play badminton with Stephen Fry, Keira Knightley and Kirsten Dunst. We have a gruelling yet intensely fun work out, shower, then fly round to Stephen's house for a tea party, which is nice. Then I dash home to get ready for football training - I'm a footballer by trade and I play for the Boro - right back - I'm a fans favourite and they even have their own little chant for me - awwwww. Anyway, I get home and there's a message for me on the phone - Kelly Brook's been harassing me again - Jeeeeeeesuz, when will she get the message - I'm just not interested. Collapse infront of the TV again - football/violent film/more comedy on the box, but the doorbell rings. It's Keira and Kirsten, and they've brought beer! Hurrah!
I relax infront of the TV with my drink in hand as Keira one side and Kirsten the other of me stroke my arms and run their hands through my hair. They go off half way through though, god knows where they went - an hour later, I find out. I walk into the kitchen and they've prepared the most fantastic banquet. I eat. I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat. Lovely stuff. It's getting late so I leave Keira and Kirsten to do the washing up and retire to my bedroom to finish my novel - it's hard work, but I enjoy it. And sure enough, right on time, as I get ready for bed, Keira and Kirsten come in to my room, half naked, oiled up, and ready for action. But I can't be arsed - I've just ate my own weight in chocolate fingers and fruit pastilles for god's sake. I fall asleep. In my comfy bed with gigantic duvet. Aaaaahhhh.........
- 03-08-2004 13:30
Europe playing a big concert in the background while I lie in bed (ooh with the bf) and chat to Freddie Mercury. I get to watch all the film and tv programs I've ever wanted to on giant screens. Permanent buffet of all my favourite food.
Oooh and Europe get me to duet with them
- 03-08-2004 14:04
There are books everywhere. I can read really fast and don't need any sleep. There is an inexhaustable supply of high quality art music (or good musicals for when I get tired). There are rives of hot coffee where you can go to drink or just inhale the beautiful fumes. Chocolate is good for you and there is a tap for beer next to all the water taps. Finally, in this place, people don't throw up when they're drunk and hangovers don't exist.