Swallowing Dates

Boo - it's almost Monday. That sucks many kinds of balls, I'm sure you'll agree. So, what shall I do to make myself feel a little better? I'll keep denying the fact that I do kind of need to start thinking about work again, and I'll stuff my face full of dates because it's the only thing I have in my house that is vaguely sweet.

I am SO good at not buying junk food when I'm at the supermarket, and then it all falls apart when I suffer incredible cravings for sweet things. I end up doing really stupid things, like dipping my finger in the honey jar, or, as mentioned above, pigging out on copious amounts of dried fruit.

Does anybody know what happens when you eat a shit load of fibre? 'Shit load' being the operative phrase there...

Onto less nasty subjects - am I the only person in the world who finds it very difficult to understand the sporting people in this country? Let me give you an example: League Players and their coaches. When was the last time you actually understood what one of them said? I actually think that Wayne Bennett IS speaking another language - I don't even recognise any of the sounds that come out of his mouth. I'm thinking that maybe this is a side effect of too many high tackles - but the phenomenon does not extend to AFL players - I can understand them just fine.

Hmmm - I've run out of dates...

Ok, so anyway, thank you, Toes, for a lovely BBQ and some very fine garlic yesterday - it's almost like I could taste the goodness when I woke up this morning! I apologise for having to leave with only 3 drinks under my belt, but you see, I am a pussy. I think I have decided that I can't actually handle hangovers - at least, temporarily. While I am still getting used to being a very busy working person, I can't risk wasting one of my weekend days feeling like death.

So, as I sit and munch on my dates and wait for Colin to come over for "cuddle time", I realise that I am destined to be a loser for a little while longer - at least until my job gets less frighteningly busy.