Fripples At Work And Far-Fetched Promises

I've been talking a lot lately about my withdrawals from My Kitchen Rules, and I think it's starting to piss people off.

Me: I miss My Kitchen Rules.
(pause)
Mum: Okay, I didn't wanna be the one to say this, but...if you don't shut up about that damn cooking show, I swear to God I'm gonna straight up choke you to death.

I love you too, Ma!
So last night I attempted to move on by watching an episode of Masterchef Australia.  And, well...
No.  Just no.  You know how...okay.  I'll compare it to something everyone knows about: Coca Cola.

Remember the first time you drank Coca Cola?  My God, wasn't it wonderful?  The colour, the taste, the fizz, the flavour, the way it got the grease out of your Granddad's work overalls?  Then came Diet Coke.  It was okay.  It looked the same, it seemed the same, all the key qualities were there...but it just wasn't as good.  Then you tried Coke Zero, and again - it had all the characteristics of the original, but something wasn't right.  And finally came Coke's ugly stepsister: Pepsi.
...
So if My Kitchen Rules is Coca Cola, Masterchef is what would happen if someone mixed Pepsi with Hitler's armpit juice. 
No offence, Channel 10.
I've come to realise that the only solution to my 'lack of MKR' problem is to invent and host my own cooking show on the Lifestyle Channel.  I'll be like Jamie Oliver only better, because instead of just calling myself The Naked Chef, I will actually BE naked while I cook.  Whoa, unhygenic!  Here are some original recipes I have already tested:

• Salmon and cheese slices
• Chicken and aioli pizza
• Montecarlo milkshakes
• The lasange sandwich

You heard correctly.  That last one is like my version of KFC's Double Down burger.  I have never felt so close to cardiac arrest in my life.
I'm a fairly terrible cook, but I'm determined to not let that get in the way of my success as a celebrity chef.  After all, plenty of people are famous for doing the things they suck at:

• Britney Spears, singer.
• Kevin Costner, actor.
• Lindsay Lohan, decent human being.

I'm pretty sure I can make it.
Anyway.
This just in: Alex and I have applied for an apartment.  And it...is...FABULOUS.  I wish I could be mature and realistic and say things like 'don't get too excited...ALOT of people have applied...we might not get this one...'
Fuck that! If you don't get excited, you're not invited to the housewarming!  Speaking of Alex (and Richie, they come as a pair), we had a work thing in the city on Monday night, so it made sense to go for a drink at Bar 333 afterwards.  Where I made maybe one of the most awkward comments of our relationship thus far:

Me: I love hanging out with you guys.  I never feel like the third wheel.  Right?  I'm part of it.  We're riding a tricycle!

For God's sake.  This is almost as bad as the time I admitted my interest in having a threesome with Katy Perry and Russell Brand.  For the record, that's not nearly as slutty as it sounds.  I only want to make out with Russell Brand.  While Katy sings in the background.

So how cold was it yesterday?  Brrrr!  I had fripples at work - through a padded bra.  How does that even happen?  The best part was that because I work in an environment that's 80% mirrors, I got to see them from every angle.  I think that's one of my favourite things about my job.  The mirrors.  When you're looking at all your various flaws that much, you kind of learn to accept them rather than hate them.  Take my nose for instance.  I thought I knew how big it was before I started at T&G...no no.  Not until I got 16 different views of it at the same time.  Anyway.  I know it's a bit lame to talk about the weather, but come on.  Really, Mother Nature?  With the cold?  It's not even winter yet.  Just calm the fuck down, alright?
Perhaps hell is freezing over.  I hope not.  I'd have alot of far-fetched promises to make good on if that were the case:

So hopefully it's just a cold snap.
Now let's talk about this little cutie:

Lately my cat has been sleeping with me - in my bed - all the way through the night.  I know some people with cats who would be used to this, but not me.  Not my cat.  This isn't like her.  Normally we get into bed together, she sticks her ass in my face for 20 minutes, then rolls over, gives me a dirty look for hogging the blankets, and leaves.  Sigh.  Just like every other lover I've had in my life.  Anyway, I don't know why she's gotten so snuggly all of a sudden.  Maybe it's the freakishly cold weather I was talking about before.  Maybe my parents locked her out of their room and I'm a last resort.  Or maybe she's finally tuned into the mind-numbing sense of loneliness that radiates from my body 24 hours a day and is only cuddling up to me out of pity.  Either way one thing's for sure; considering the state of my personal life, I probably have no right to be as ecstatically happy as I am.  But there you go - it really is a wonder, what copious amount of caffeine and Prozac can do.
Just kidding Mum.
(About the caffeine.)