Memories keep me awake late at night.

Almost feel like a person today. I’m counting on being down and out until thursday but after my pearl barley pomegranate dinner yesterday my insides are cleaner (but very relative as in those rings of hell)

Me and Kix discussing which drink to do next from Dr Richards bar. Absinth? Menthe? Champagne? New boobs? The possibilities are endless when you are being entertained by a french plastic surgeon

Crashing a wedding. Trying to get the dad to dance with me. Finally his wife grew tired of me and danced. Look how happy that made her. Dancing is good for the soul.

Pink champagne at 8 in the morning. Euro trash!

Wedding crashers. Who don’t want three swedes blessing their arabian wedding?

A jacuzzi without water. Perfect for sexy crawling. Make love to the camera.

Day three. Jump back up on that horse.

Owning the Latin Quarters. Then go eat kebab for dinner and drink horrible wine. End the night stinking dead rat surrounded by gorgeous models. Be very, very happy.

We travel the world and party. Slap dancing our way through Europe. Sometimes we sleep for an hour or two. Then we find a glass of vodka and start singing again.