Kuta - where rejected x factor contestants come to die

I went for a long walk on the beach today. I wore my ipod and listened to Gnarles Barkley and Lilly Allen, in that way i couldn't hear the constant offers for massages, manicures or pedicures.
It's lovely here, the water is super warm, it's like stepping into a warm bath or maybe a jacuzzi, i have never experienced a sea water so warm. Charming. As I walked on the beach I really did ask myself could it get any better than this? Of course it could, I could stay and never go home? I could fall in love and have someone to share this experience with? I could learn how to surf and kick my addiction to coffee. But in general I don't really think that things can get much better than today. As I walked, ner, limped home. (I have a burst blister on little toe, and it's so sore. I aggravated it thru good intention. I went swimming in the salt water on the basis that it would help clean it out but then had to put my shoes and socks on and to say that the sand irritated, and altogether worsened the situation is an understatement of enormous proportions. My little toe is now twice it's original size and walking is painful). Anyway i digress. It started to piss rain. Like any good Irish person i can sense an on coming rain shower with amazing accuracy. But due to damaged toe I limped home in the rain and when it rains here it really does pour, I still thought that all things being equal, things can't really get any better than this.
Unfortunately i can't really say the same about the restaurant in my hotel. I wish i could download the singers outside so that you also could share in my torment. All I wanted was some dinner. So i dressed my toe, limped to the restaurant only to be confronted by what i can only imagine Simon Cowell would muse,"if your lifeguard duties were as good as your singing, a lot of people would be drowning." To make matters worse because it's pissing rain there's no one here except me, Nini and a couple of locals drinking beer, and a white drunk guy at the bar who keeps raising his glass to me and winking. I paid my bill and left when they dedicated their next song to the only lady in the restaurant, Madonna's like a virgin. I couldn't pay fast enough. I can now hear them but am out of eye contact with my admirer who has major beer goggles on. Thank goodness my room has TV. And I really wanted desert. Darn. Last night they showed the first 5 ever episodes of the Sopranos on HBO I was in TV heaven.
I had to rush back and add that i just spoke to the lady who works here, she says that yes the band are awful she has to listen to them every night and they sing the same songs in the same order and make the same jokes, she looked genuinely pained. I suggested ear plugs, but she said management wouldn't allow them, ipod? too expensive. Poor thing. I should have given her my left over valium.
For amusement i have been setting my mobile number as 086 66666666, In one hotel i registered myself as Mrs. B. Obama and in another I put my occupation down as an Assassin, in others a writer, professional heroin addict, music producer, rock star, fugitive, sports star, Gymnast, money spender and waster and my home address as 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the Lovre and St. Peters Square, Roma Italy. I lived in Buckingham palace for a short time and in Thailand for one night i was from Kabul. Oh the ways one can amuse themselves when they are away from home.