It’s Don’s birthday in two weeks, and I have taken it upon myself to organise the hottest part in Singapore. It’s the least I can do to divert his attention from the tax money I spent on bringing back a ton of Vic Beck and Alex McQ from London. The theme I’m going with is Hotness, for one: because I am hot, for two: because our Expaterati friendses are hot, and for threely, because in Singers it’s just like totes HOT. Like all the time!! YAY!!!!

So. What I’m going to do is host an awesome BBQ on our roof terrace, with the caterers dressed up as gourmet sausages, and have the guests come in their most scorchio swimwear. Don loves to see me in tiny bikinis (he hasn’t said as much, but who wouldn’t?), and it is his birthday, after all.

I have abso zero clue about BBQs, but I was at a glamorous party the other night, and I met this lovely chappie who’s Kickstarting a business to deliver artisanal meats and apetisers for just this sort of occasion. All I had to do was put in the number of guests, and lah lah lah, it’ll just show up on the day, looking like I spent weeks scouring the planet for awesome stuff. Now I’m not one to promote businesses willy-nilly, as you know, dear readers, (except PS Café: peeps come on! I plug you all the time!! At least name a dish after me!!); but in this case, here’s something I actually need.

After the BBQ, we’ll have bangin’ chunes around the pool and dance in our bikinis and Lebouties. Liz, the husband stalker, will have to be invited because Don likes her douche hus. So Flo and I will have a good old stylee giggle about what’s going on underneath those Lycra bottoms. Argh, get some treatment for that, babe! It’s just not nice!! Dr T will fix you right up.