We found the turkey breast, but

we sure left our good moods behind.

Both me and Mon are grumpy. I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed (but Marc smartly pointed out there's only one side of the bed to get out of for me, since my bed's to the wall - but I told him precisely 'cos I got off the side with the wall, hence the mood. Duuuuude.), and she's PMS-y, plus... well, other stuff. As I just told her on MSN, I'm in "the i-feel-ugly-and-unattractive-and-fat-and-got-so-much-work-can't-finish-but-feeling-lazy-argh-i-hate-myself mood".

(grey cloud looms overhead)

Yibs just asked me on MSN if we "found the turkey boobs". LOL. Good one there, sis! Made it sound downright unappetising too.

Called Marc for a rallying talk ("I feel horrible!" - "insert reassurance phrase here") and he's in central Paris, walking around some ugly artsy museum place or some such thing. You see, MissPiggy, his good friend, has decided to pay XT and him a visit in Paris. I hate her guts, because you see, she hates mine. How do I know this? Well, she icily stares through me each time I say hi to her. On purpose.

The reason for her animosity is that she used to have something for him. And what else could be making her hate me? Hmmm... Well, gee, I don't really know, but could it be that I'm...

1) Skinnier than her? Check.
2) Prettier than her? Hell yeah, check. (most people are)
3) Has the boy she wants? (gasp) Oops, yeah, check.

Ooooops.