November 11, 2009
After a 12-hour day at work, complete with no lunch break, it’s fair to say I am stuffed/buggered/rat shit.
However, I have added the cherry to the top of this non-so appealing cake (nom nom) by doing four things tonight when I got home:
- Took off my pants. Sure, it scares away roommates, but there’s nothing like watching terrible TV (more info to come) with your legs liberated.
- Flicked on oh-so terrible TV in the form of “Momma’s Boy”. Made me feel better about own life.
- Ate large KFC chips (chicken salted) slowly, savouring every salty, delicious bite. Heaven.
- Cracked a cold one – this was the highlight. I felt like my father. Tres relaxing.
So there you have it, folks. The four-step secret to happiness and blissful feelings post cracker of a work day:
Dropping your pants; watching girls with fake boobs trying to impress whiney overbearing mothers; and indulging in trans fats and empty kilojoules. Delightful!
November 1, 2009
So, the novel is off to a cracking start. I currently have 8400 words … and it will be growing throughout the month of November. I am stupidly partipating in NaNoWriMo to kick my own butt into writing this crazy little thing called a 50,000-plus novel.
Check out my profile to monitor my progress and let me know if you think of any awesome Fat Fighter related (or not) incidents that you think would make rad novel material. Cheers guys!
I’ve obviously already got a large selection of personal FF experiences to tap into, but my novel is a work of fiction which gives me a lovely flexibility to be even sillier than usual (uh-oh!). Cue the giant chocolate baths and house-sized doughnuts (meanwhile, anyone seen the ad for Cloudy With The Chance Of Meatballs? Drool-tastic!).
Anyhoo, here’s the site:
http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/554887
Love you like I love rocky road. xx
October 18, 2009
What a month, or two, it’s been.
Work, work, work. Eat, eat, eat. Work, work, work. Eat, eat, eat.
Yep, I hope you enjoyed that four-sentence summary of the past few months.
I wish I had something more interesting to serve up (aka double coated caramel slice, anyone?), but sadly that’s not the case … or is it?
Dare I confess my Fat Fighting sins? Or shall I push them under the crummy-laden carpet (sorry, roommate, I’ll vacuum later, I promise) for another time?
The confessional session shall have to wait – my battery is running low on life and the list is a long and mighty one.
Chat soon.
x
September 21, 2009
Wisdom teeth extraction.
Copious bowls of ice-cream, custard and choccie mousse.
Painkillers.
DVDs.
Hmmm, it’s sounding better by the second.
September 18, 2009
I’m in the middle of a food crisis.
For the past month or so, my workplace has been flooded, absolutely flooded, with free junk food. Cupcakes, ice-creams, chocolates, sausage rolls, chips, lollies, soft drinks. Did I mention even more cupcakes and ice-creams?
At the moment I’m sitting here with a tummy full of free sausage rolls and chocolates. I feel really sick and terrified about cracking out my Bond girl one-piece tomorrow at the beach.
My question to you: why the HELL do I eat, eat, eat, shovel, shovel, shovel, pig, pig, pig even when my high-waisted skirt is pressing up against my poor bloated belly more than a sleazy guy rubbing against a girl on the dance floor? I ask again: why the hell am I such a goddamn pig? Why do I take such pride in the amount of crap I can hoover into my gob? Riddle me this, people. Why the hell do tasty morsels like sauso rolls and peanut M&Ms put such a whopping smile on my dial? Because they do. They really do.
Help a gluttonous sister out. Please. Before my stomach explodes and the CSI guys find nothing more than my dental records and 40 digested sausage rolls.
September 16, 2009
I am flexible and balanced.
I respect my body.
I drink plenty of water.
I get plenty of rest.
My cells are healthy and alive.
I eliminate stress from my daily life.
I nourish my body with what it needs …
CHOCOLATE.
September 16, 2009
This has to be some kind of record!
Have cooked fish, mash and salad for the past few nights. Feeling v. healthy.
PS: Have cheese and biccie arvo ahead at work. Bring it onnnnnn!
September 9, 2009
Listening to: Jet’s new album. It’s effing rad.
Looking at: my ridiculously messy room. *sigh*
Thinking about: the fact I’ve had cramps for three days … why, why, why?
Proud of: the fact I had a Jarrah instead of a Magnum Ego for dessert.
Wishing: it was the weekend so I could hit the d-floor with the ladies.
Missing: my sexy man. Stupid long distance, you don’t get easier with time.
Reading: Eat, Pray, Love; Stephen King’s On Writing.
Watching: Soprano’s season six.
Smelling: vanilla candles. So yummy I want to eat them – and I may just do that!
September 8, 2009
It wasn’t a fancy vending machine. Just your stock-standard type, not one of those flashy ones with the bells and whistles, edible underwear and chilled beers. It had chips, choc and soft drinks. It was still divine in my eyes. Then one day, one horrible spring day, it broke. I cried, I yelled, I screamed, until, like a white knight riding his stallion out of the mist, the vending machine repair man arrived. He worked into the wee hours trying to bring my beloved vending machine back to life, but nothing could revive it. Dead. Empty. A dead, empty shell filled with nothing but … junk food. The sweet and savoury delights were encased behind the glass and no one could get to them – except Mr Repair Man with his magical key. I spied him using it one day, watched him empty out the lifeless machine. Chips, chocolates and soft drinks were taken out, one by one. I salivated. I waltzed into the kitchen to chat. After a quick flutter of the eyelashes and a jiggle-jiggle of the hips, he offered me a free soft drink. I spotted the the growing pile of chips on kitchen bench and bit my lip. Must. Have. Treats, my inner voice spat out. “May I?” I asked, pointing at a block of chocolate. “Take whatever you like, take anything,” he smiled. Like a woman on the run, with no priorities other than collecting her life’s possessions in five seconds flat, I scurried to the bench and grabbed packet after packet of ridiculously delicious free junk. My femme fatale image immediately disappeared as I screeched to my comrades, “Get your asses in the kitchen NOW! We’ve got free vending machine treats, ladies!” The group stampeded into the kitchen like lions on heat, sniffing out the remains. We took our plastic-covered victims back to the table to feed. And boy did we feed. Crumbs flew, soft drink spilled, chocolate smeared.
It was fucking awesome.
September 5, 2009
Howdy,
I trust everything is going swimmingly in your worlds. I have made the (rather stupid and ballsy) decision to start writing a book. While my mind is boggling at the thought of churning out around 60-70,000 words (*gasp*), I’m going to give it a red-hot go. Fingers crossed I don’t get to 10,000 words and throw myself into a KFC coma from the stress. Anyhoo, just wanted to have a little midnight brag. I have spent the entire day writing, reading and editing – it’s been a good day! My Fat Fighting mission is well and truly all over the place – one day, I’m Little Miss Exercise, the next I’m Little Miss Just Smashed An Entire Pizza + Magnum + Every Morsel Of Sugary Delight I Could Sniff Out. You get the idea. How are you going? It’s been lovely hearing from some of you lately!
Anyhoo, I better go – bed calls.
Love love love xx
