Yes, folks, we’ve reached that time again when I have absolutely nothing to write about, and so I fall back on answering the questions people ask me through my keyword referrers – the terms people type into Google which somehow lead them to this here site. Oh, come on, you love it really. And if you don’t, well…. just pretend.

Today we’re kicking off with…

how come hot summers in Scotland are so horrible?

Oh, you poor child. Hot summers in Scotland are not “horrible” – they’re fictional. No, really, they don’t exist. We haven’t had a hot summer here since 1976, and I’m starting to think even that one was probably just an urban myth. I mean, there is a reason I go to Florida every summer, you know: it’s the only chance I get to wear all of those summer clothes I keep buying.

(Seriously, this is really starting to annoy me this year. I have all these clothes, just BEGGING to be worn, and can I wear them? No, I cannot. Well, I mean, yes, I can, but only if I want to freeze my ass off.)

should i tan my butt?

Ooh! OK, I’m going to assume you mean “tan” as in the Fake Bake variety, here. The answer to your question is… dunno.  Up to you, really. I, personally, have indeed chosen to “tan my butt” this year. I made this difficult decision a few weeks ago, when I noticed a ghost at the back of our Body Combat class. What was strange about this ghost was that, rather than being scary, it was kinda trying to work out along with the rest of the class, its pale skin shining like the moon as it bumbled its way through the kicks and punches.  And then I realised that, yes, that ghost was me. And as soon as I got home, I hit the fake tan, hard. (By which I mean, “you wouldn’t really be able to tell the difference, but I can no longer stand in for the moon on a dark night.”)  Somehow it actually worked out for me this time, and it didn’t go streaky or orange, like it usually does. I fully expect to have jinxed myself now, just by writing that. Expect an “OMG, I am orange!” entry soon, but probably not until the day before I go on holiday. I did mention I was going on holiday, didn’t I? Good.

what do you call a black person with red hair?

Jim-Bob. Srsly.

Body Attack and Body Pump in the same night?

What are you, the Duracel Bunny?

Can I leave a Bichon Frise all day?

Only if you don’t mind getting your radiators peed on.

Can I wear jeans to a christening?

OK, go to the bottom of the class.  NO, you cannot wear jeans to a christening. Or to a wedding. Or to any formal event, unless it’s being held inside a Western movie. Seriously, what is wrong with people? Why do they always want to wear jeans to EVERYTHING? Put down the jeans. Step away from the jeans. FORGET THE FREAKIN JEANS for ONE DAY, is that too much to ask?

(OK, I overreact. Wear jeans if you want. But if it was MY christening  – or my baby’s christening, anyway – I’d probably be a little disappointed that you couldn’t be bothered making just a little more effort than that.)

Can you wear coloured cardigans with black dresses?

There’s no specific law against this, as far as I’m aware. Unlike, say, the “jeans to a christening” thing, above.

How can I stop people making fun of my red hair?

I normally just smack them in the face, to be honest.  If they don’t like it, I tell them to get a freaking sense of humour already, d’uh!

Photograph of a book called Forever Amber?

You are welcome.

(p.s. You should all totally go and read this article , which Alex wrote for BitchBuzz – made my day!)