No one else can speak the words on your lips*

I haven't been taking great care of myself lately. Most obviously has been my inability to remember to shower. It's not like, I'm anti-being clean at the moment or anything, it's just slipped my mind fairly often in the last month to not be a dirty skank. I'll generally then realise three days later that I haven't de-dirted myself in a while but, cruicially, still won't do anything about it. I can't justify this behaviour. I'm sat here now, a thin film of three day old grease covering my body and I don't intend to do anything more challenging tonight than watching The Hills.

Oh yeah, that's my other big 'not taking care of myself' semi-self flagellation thing. I've started recording The Hills. For realz. I mean, you know it's bad, I know it's bad, it's theme song is a Natasha Beddingfield number for chrissakes (if something starts with Natasha Beddingfield then, as a general rule, the only way is up from that point on but The Hills just HAS to be the exception to prove the rule). There's loads of bouts of weird silent staring which, I'm not sure happens in my 'reality' and this being a 'reality' 'show' you would think would at least attempt to follow some of the rules of societal convention and yet, and yet, no. It's as realistic as a Micheal Bay movie but with less random explosions and more silent staring for no reason AT ALL (like, at all). I've known about this program for a while given my non-official status (waiting for the paperwork to come through) as pop culture sponge. Like, I already know the names of everyone on the show. I know that Spencer looks like Mr Tumnus (he appears not to be in the early episodes. I'm strangely excited to see how he integrates into it all) but I've never really seen more than 3 minutes of an episode before. When it comes to pop culture explosions I either like to be really super geeky early to the party and show up while all the canapes are being laid out or just really super late and waltz in whilst everyone is throwing up into the gutter outside and having sex on the stairwell. I don't want to be there while the actual party is going on. (I'd rather be at home not showering for the most part. These are my issues, I'm trying to deal with them as best I can). In this case I've arrived as the sun is coming up and even the people who were puking and fucking at the same time have given up and gone home. Yet, I feel I owe it to myself to really understand this phenomenon. If there is one thing I want to achieve before I die it is that.

So I guess this means I'm going down the rabbit hole. Wish me luck. I don't know that I'll ever be back. It's been a blast. (If by 'blast' I mean 'slightly inept attempt at life thus far'. Which I totally do.)

*Unless you write them down Natasha, YOU FUCKING IDIOT