Oh Guy Fieri.

Recently I've been watching a lot of Guy's Grocery Games. It was discovered one hungover Sunday, and now I can't control it. Guy Fieri curse you and your addictive, three lettered, hunger inspiring tales. 

"Sorry I really can't stay long I have plans..." I exclaim mysteriously as my friends accuse me of some torrid affair....little do they know...JT +GF= 4EVA.

It's a really horrible addiction I'm forced to balance with my overcrowded work schedule, obsessive friends and strong desire to spend hours looking at puppies online...

It's a really hectic schedule, made only increasingly more difficult by the fact that I'm aging rapidly (it's my birthday next week....so about those puppies...I like Great Danes...) and can no longer fight off sickness, hangovers or sleep deprivation like I used to. Which results in plenty of painful mornings and....well....these kind of texts...

Old age isn't cute.

Oh and how is the cooking going I hear you ask?

Let's just not talk about it...

WhAt Is A bLoG?

 Everybody and their mothers has been messaging me today about plans for tonight...like who hurt these people? Do they not know it is freezing outside? Stay indoors, read a book.

I think maybe I've been doing too much of that considering I'm drawing a blank as to what is actually been going on...I mean Valentines happened. I spent majority of the day standing outside of a Methadone clinic in the snow handing out Valentines to strangers, not even the cute European tourist who offered me a kiss could make that task even remotely pleasant.

 I then made my day even worse by hanging out with a rapper...not my rapping ex....or the rapper I hung out with to make said rapping ex mad.....a different rapper....as someone who doesn't believe in having a "type" I'm starting to really eat my own words...

(Just kidding...unless Harry Styles becomes a rapper...in that case, yes rappers are my type)

(Say rapper one more time, idiot)

But hey, it wasn't all negative!

As a pre-diagnosed cold hearted asshole, I'm not big on the love....but I fuck with the candy and cupcakes involved...(also, did you know there is now a #love sweetheart? like what kind of 21st century tomfoolery is this? dumb.)

I've come to realize I've now lost all blogging ability...

I simply ramble some words, chuck in a few ill placed and often exaggerated ellipsis, litter it with a few awful pictures I randomly found in the black hole of my iPhone camera and call it a blog.

I've lost my touch.

RIP me.

May the 12th be with you....what? That's not how it works? Balls.

New York has been killin' it even more with the weather these last few days.....like it makes me want to cry.

Something else that makes me want to cry but for a very polar reason? The fact that I spent my entire Monday looking through the security footage at work because I kept losing things and had to rewind my steps. After the 3rd time (literally) I just gave up handling important documents as I'm obviously 2 years old and my Mum isn't around to find them. 

Speaking of Mum she came to visit this weekend....because it's Mother's Day and I'm her favourite child.

(My Aunty was here aswell. She came specifically to teach me all about meat paste and sardines on toast....my life is now better).

It was a flying visit yet she still managed to force Hillary and I into about 34 selfies...seriously, if there is one thing that woman loves it is a selfie....and checking in on Facebook.

Oddball.

Also, New Zealand 2014 is officially booked and ready (I mean I didn't book it...my Dad did...because hi, poor...sidenote:I'm his favourite too...I'm fabulous) so I thought I should probably get all my shit together aka passport aka passport photos aka seriously does anybody look good in these? I came looking my very best with my fanciest greasy bun and dead person face. I'm just too good looking sometimes.

Let us now pray for ugly TSA officers.