Photos and fatness

I mean seriously - how depressing is Facebook sometimes? Or more to the point - the five million photos of you on Facebook. I was looking through some of my old photos, as I was trying to find a good "party themed" one and boy did I have to look faaaaaaaaaaaaaar back...

I'm talking years. Goddamn, I am a bit rusty on the good old party front.

Not only that, but I looked so much better back then. Jesus, having a baby really do pile them on. Yes, yes, we all know that and it's only "Babyweight", you'll be back into shape soon... Bla, bla, bla.. But hang on... Erm... Something's wrong here. Oh yeah - I had Jackson over a year ago. The ugly reality is that: I CANNOT BLAME THE BABY WEIGHT ANYMORE. Jackson is technically a TODDLER. Bugger-ee-do.

Depressing.

(Not the having Jackson - part, the fact that I look like a whale - part).

Speaking of parties though - I went to my friend James' birthday party BBQ this weekend and Mummy got wasted!
But it was a rubbish drunk, you know the kind that hits you when you leave so I spent the whole journey home plastered and talking bollocks to B and then was sick twice when I got home.

Rock n' Roll.

Not only that - but baby J didn't care that mummy had one (or five) too many glasses of vino blanco, he was up at 7.30 as usual demanding absolute surrender to his every whim and needs.

Mum's here at the moment and as usual it is BLISS. She's sorting out our garden, thank God, as my fingers are most definitely not green. They are a healthy pink shade, (as is normal), but anything green, small-ish and living that my hands touch die... I just can't keep flowers or plants alive, they all finally crumble and die. (Part from the few cactus I have - sturdy buggers).

Mum babysat last night as Brooks and I went to see Flight of the Concords at Wembley. They were friggin AWESOME!!! I had such a nice time, thank you Carrie for sorting out the tickets!

B's having his leaving do tonight. It's weird to think that he'll be off work at the same time as me! (WHich reminds me that I need to find a job pronto!)

I'm just praying that someone will read my shorst and go: "Hey, she's good! We'll pay her a million pounds in royalties!"

A girl can dream right?