The glutton

My Tidiness Nazi housemate informed me she'd been to the chiropractor and had to rest so it was going to be a 'make your own' night tonight with regard to dinner. 

Disaster!! 

I am famed for my inability to cook even the simplest thing.  I think that it's mainly because I can't be arsed to cook and then when I'm hungry I want something immediately and therefore end up with a dinner that is on fire but frozen in the middle.  I will now post a number of pictures of culinary disasters I've had to endure:

 I present: VEGGIE BURGER!

 A lovely OMELETTE!

 A little seasoning to my Domino's pizza!

 MmmMMMMmm, MINI PIZZAS!

Well done Linda McCartney, here is one of your VEGGIE PIES!

So yeah, you can probably guess why I was somewhat nervous about it being a 'make your own' night.  I decided to go with my signature dish; ice cream.  I then decided to have a different flavour ice cream for dessert.  I was happy.  Heck, if this regime goes on much longer then I might end up with Ricketts but hell, I'll be happy.  As happy as a Tap Dancer (who would be unable to stop a pig in an alley).  The only downside to my happiness was the judgemental look on the face of the Nazi.  The good news is that she couldn't stand it any longer and I scored some spaghetti bolognaise out of her disgust! 

In other news, 'Mental Health' work colleague and I had a candid discussion about stuff.  She's got a painful patch on her arm which is clearly arm cancer (only it seemed to be better today) and I shared the story about the time I was startled in the early hours by the unexpected sight of my own vagina reflected in the mirror when I was bending forward.  That sight, at an angle I would never have expected to have viewed it from, has haunted me ever since and I've been obsessed I'm horribly deformed 'down there'.  As previously shared, I've now been unable to pull a bloke for a number of years, possibly due to the fact I accidentally exude 'fuck off' vibes from every pore whenever someone talks to me, so have been unable to gauge the level of horror on the face of any potential sexual partners.  I sort of described it to her in it's full 'angry looking' detail and she nodded sagely and told me it was perfectly normal!  Phew!  She then reflected that perhaps we should get a bunch of girls together for a nibbles and vadge party so we can all sort of have a quick look to make sure we're all the same.  I think that 'Mental Health' work colleague now suspects that if ours are the same and mine might be wrong then perhaps HERS is wrong too! 

It's hard being alive innit?