I’m an idiot …

No need to argue the point all at once, folks.

Seriously, I am. What kind of FOOL tells the whole world she’s going to go for a walk in the stinking, filthy streets of Sydney on Australia Day? Well, I am an even bigger idiot and deserve to have rotten tomatoes thrown at me because, dear people, I did it. I walked my black tights-clad ass from home to Stanmore and I sweated off most of my facial features and a few body parts. Yep, if you see a one-armed lass with blurred lips, one eye and missing eyebrows, that’s me. What a hot (sweaty) mess I was. But, I did it. One hour. Before the BBQ. Hmmm, in my evil little mind this means one thing: delicious BBQ food is free to be devoured, cares thrown over my shoulders like a school girl’s legs on prom night.

But … once again, I must reinforce my point: I am a bloody IDIOT.

Not only did I profess the walking plans (which, by the way, freaking hurt my hips … early arthritis, anyone?), but I also claimed to create a healthy platter. Well, a semi-healthy platter with a few goodies thrown in for good measure. But before I launch in Photography For Beginners majoring in the Art of Plattery to show you that I did create such an Australia Day beast, I must brag about my other FF achievements today:

1. Delicious breakfast: 2 x Weetbix, blueberries, strawberries, skim milk
2. Delicious brunchy, lunchy, foody thing (BBQ lunch not until circa 3pm – “Meeeep!” my stomach cried: chopped banana, grapes, almonds and apple. Shared it with the boy and we enjoyed.

Anyhoo, without further ado, let’s move into Platter Town. Ready? Yeah, me either, but let’s just get it out of the way because I have a BBQ to get to and want to smash some serious chips and cheese on my day “off”. Hmmm. I mean, oh bugger it. You know me.

Exhibit 1: The platter.

Seriously, can you see all that healthiness? Please take a moment to cast your eyes over those succulent strawberries, juicy grapes and crunchy grapes (and spare a thought for all the filthy, sordid things I’ve got planned for the double brie cheese hiding innocently in the corner there).

Exhibit 2:

Finally, let’s move on to my favourite part of the segment – What’s hidden behind the chocolate flavoured door? Sssshh, you’ll find out soon enough. You see, I have a REALLY nasty afternoon planned with all kinds of crazy shit – and double brie’s not the only yummy caught in my blinding headlights.

Introducing, ladies and gentle, the man who’s going to make all my dreams come true this Australia Day – Red Rock Sea Salt man … mmmm. Oh yeah, please make him feel welcome.

Exhibit 3:

The final person in my plans is a chilling bottle of Obikwa (thank you Liquor Land), but he’s busy getting cold now and didn’t want to be disturbed. What can I say? When a bott bott wants to be left alone, you’ve just gotta respect that shiz.

Anyway, enough crapping on from me, I’ve got a BBQ to hit up and a steak sanga to dominate.

Happy Australia Day – hope yours is filled with all kinds of deliciousness, too.

xxxx

You’ll put on weight just looking at this post …

But it’ll be worth it.

Happy Australia Day, people!

Translation: I think I put on 10 kilos this week.

My kinda heaven

Translation: let's get fat at the Gold Coast

This x 1000 for eight days is why boyfriend and I are being healthy … well, after Australia Day – a girl needs a bevvie in hand for that.

Drop ’em, I dare you.

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!

The Fat Fighters Chronicles: the novel

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

Attack of the free food

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.

3 days without KFC …

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!

Once upon a time there was a vending machine …

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.

Serve THIS at your next dinner party

Ingredients:

1 x stick of cabanossi (ripped into three pieces)
1 x piece of tasty cheese (ripped into three pieces)

Method:

1. Wrap each piece of cabanossi with a broken-up slice of cheese, so you are essentially left with three delicious semi-sausages-in-‘bread’.
2. Chomp. Enjoy. Repeat.

Sadness: the feeling when there is no Law & Order: SVU/ Sex & The City/ Oprah/ Next Top Model to watch.

After six days with pay TV, I am truly addicted.

My name is missbooti and I am a full-blown crappy TV addict.

PS: I went on the RADDEST winter shopping spree. Sensational. Loving myself and the new threads sick at the moment.