My tummy is making horrible sounds. That's the last time i eat real fruit.

Happy Monday everyone? No didn't think so. Same bitchin as last week.

Still in my pjs, holding the sofa down.

I'm winning at Sunday.

If anyone needs a couple of extra coat pegs I think my nipples would do nicely. Brrrrrrr

Oh I'm so snug in bed please don't make me move *pulls covers over head*

Damn you earning a living. Damn you.

I'm on my way home. To help me feel better do I..
a) do yoga
b) drink wine
c) eat fat and sugar
d) all of the above*
*but not yoga.

Thought about cleaning the house today but settled for wafting febreeze around and glugging wine instead.

Two teenagers talking in baby voices to each other and now there's two less ickle wickle pumpkins to worry about.

Eating chocolate fingers like a boss*

*I'm dying inside. I've eaten 7000. Help me.

A man with a stick and two teeth just asked me out at the bus stop.

Hey they were his own two teeth!!

33 and I can't stay awake past 10pm. By the time I'm 40 I'll have to cram a life into 4 waking hours.

I've been on a diet for nearly 3 hours. I'm taking myself out for a walk before the sugar cravings kill me.

My TL is a fucked up combo of swingers parties, trash tv and lists of the best naked songs.

WHERE ARE YOU ALL AND WHY AREN'T I INVITED

No beauty counter lady with leather skin, no I don't think you can help me.

Pie and cake for lunch = food baby and food coma. Hold me.

Right. Bedtime.

Translation: I'll tweet from my pit as soon as the insomnia kicks right the fuck in.

Easter lunch at the parents with the rest of the family in attendance.

A slow death by strangulation might feel nice about now.

Right culture peeps and other freaks (hey see what I did there..) ha I'm off to stare at tele instead of phone. Nanight

Tickets booked to go to the opera. You can call me Miss fancy-pants-sparkles now.

I'm low on sunshine today. Please send cake.