I wake up to the relentless predicament of what to do first: brush my teeth or get on the scale. Just as the day before (and the day before that), I brush my teeth first. Who sings that song... “every day is exactly the same”? That’s what it feels like when I take out the dog, toothbrush still in mouth, mailman walking towards the building, me and puppy scurrying back inside so tha he doesn’t get to see me in semi sheer tank top, happy bunny undies and fuzzy slippers... again. Having done legs a few days back, my up-the-stairs dash proves to be a bit slower and more painful than usual... “2 cute 2 talk 2 u” reads the inscription on my butt. Perfect. Just another predictable Wednesday!

Note to self: There are 3 robes of varrying length hanging in the bathroom... you look straight at them each time you sit to pee, why not put one on (a la Jessica Biel) knowing you wake up 10 minutes before the mailman arrives every fucking day?

Some questions to start the day with...

RUBY ON RAILS:
Any ideas who Ruby is and where the rails lead?
EYES WIDE SHUT:
Why don’t I ever get invited to parties like that?
FACEBOOK:
Can you say stalker friendly?