I'm sooo back

YES I HAVE STARTED BLOGGING AGAIN!

i thought i would capitalise that, more for my own benefit than anyone else's. Im committing myself to jumping back on this b to the logging bandwagon.

I had to stop (yes, yes, for three whole months) because my blogs were in danger of getting me into trouble (read; i had been a veritable pitt street whore and all my man-crushes came close to finding out*).

So where am i now? geographically - i am sitting on the couch in my most awesome item of clothing: a grey florida jumper that is approximately size XXXXXXXXXL. My dad got it for me thinking I could grow into it. Does he want me to grow to be the size of the snuffleuffagus on Sesame Street? I think yes.

Anyways, the jumper is awesome, and I'm 'eaps comfy. I also have tea, the latest Madison and Masterchef is on. Effin Bliss, mothertruckers.

But wait. I cannot lie. I am actually in the depths of despair. Massive food hangover is occuring right now. Let me elaborate....

I live in a house of Victoria Secret Models. I am not lying. I can see Miranda Kerr's shoes from here. Karolina Kurkova's bra is totally hanging off our lampshade (skank...). Anyhoo, they all have great supermodel-like self control around delicacies involving huge amounts of butter and sugar. Me not so much. In my next life I am coming back as icing, so i can eat myself, and still not get fat because it will be this cyclical relationship where I am ingesting myself and therefore adding no digits to my overall weight. Does that make sense? Yup. Pretty sure it does.

Ok, so back to my story. One housemate - we shall call her Giselle (going with the model theme) - attempted to make a slice. Double Choc Nut Fudge Brownie Slice to be precise. Anyway, I think Giselle's recipe was flawed because the darn thing would not cook. That left me to clean up the mess, i.e. eat it all. It was amaaaaazing. Food orgasm.

Fast forward 20 minutes and I'm in gastric hell. And I can't go for a run and get it out of my system because I'M THE FOOL WHO LEFT HER KEYS AT WORK! I am confined to the house now, because if I leave, there is noone to let me back in. ARGH!!!! I have created my own prison of cookie dough, icing and .... vegemite. That's all there is in this place.

And to make matters worse - I'm watching Masterchef. THE FOOD IS EVVVVERYWHERE.

Far out. This world is a cruel, cruel place sometimes.











*the word 'whore' here is used as a term of endearment...(yes, i am endearing myself)...i am actually training to be a nun. ok, im not. but i would still like to make the point that i'm not the Paris Hilton of the inner west. (The fact i'm so resolved to make this point is slightly unnerving and becoming a bit awks. so i'll stop.)