As usual, in quite desperate search of something to eat in the house that never has food, I opened the fridge with such high anticipation, only to get my hopes completely dashed. ( I have such a talent for coming up with long long sentences) Anyway, all that's in my fridge now, as sad as it seems, are two huge huge huge papayas. Like what the hell. Each takes up like one shelf of my not that small but ridiculously empty fridge. Adrian's suffering from major constipation or what, and trust me I know. Having the bathroom connected to my room means I get to hear all sorts of noises in the middle of the night.

So anyway, the whole family's being forced to eat various motion-inducing foods along with him as a relatively mediocre form of consolation. Yah right. I suppose all this fibre is good anyway, I'm currently the heaviest I've been in my whole life, including the time when I was on growth steroids. Yikes. Its about time I started a diet anyway. Like seriously 3 kilos in a month? I can totally feel the cellulite. Oh the sorrow. I blame emicakes and they're unreasonably yummy choc fudge cakes. Plus, if the current trend of exceptionally yummy birthday cakes continues as it has for the past five years or what, I'll stop being horizontally challenged. Which means all I'm left with is the vertically challenged. Depression.

God, re-reading this I figure I'm the most random no-life person in the world.