Yet another edition of Ms. Kukamunga's imaginary blog:

I can't believe it...I actually let Diego convince me to move in with him. I hope he understands that it's strictly a professional arrangement. I swear, if I had anywhere else to go, I'd be outa here in a flash, but this is one sweet rental deal I got goin' on here: only $200 a month, plus he pays for all the groceries!
The only catch is that I have to take care of ALL the grocery shopping. For some reason this guy can't stand supermarkets, minimarts, outdoor markets, or anything of the type. Thinks they're dirty or something.
Wierd.

It's just that he can be so darn persuasive, what with that mesmerizing Castillian accent and all.

I only hope he's not too loud when he entertains those trashy bimbos everyone's always telling me he hangs around with. He has to respect that this is MY home now too, dammit!

And another thing! He NEEDS to close the door when he's in the shower! Damn exhibitionist Spaniards!
Just because one works out, and does a little modelling doesn't mean one has to flash one's stuff around willy nilly like that! No pun intended.

Why, if I wasn't a decent, modest, young lady that player would have to give me a wide berth around this place, or his sculpted rear would be well-pinched!

Good gracious, he's absolutely shameless.