I think I have broken myself.

My back has me moving, once again, like a pregnant yak. And NO, I'm STILL not pregnant. Nor a yak.

I don't know what I did or which god I offended, but it's all coming back to me.

So I thought that maybe I should go to the theatre to watch SuperSize Me, it being cheap Tuesdays, afterall.

After wincing as I lowered myself into the seat and moaning when the old couple made me move to accommodate them, I settled in for the horror.

Good doco.
Apparently just released in Australia, and the director's just gotten back. Damn, it would be nice to be him right now... I mean, aside from the life-threatening shit storm he just threw at his body for the sake of media coverage and fame. I suppose I should know him before I throw stones. I'm just so jaded. Maybe, just maybe, he really thought "hey I'll do something for the good of society. I will leave my mark by squishing their fat faces into this vat of obesity they call life."

Who really knows his motivation? Only he does.

And now I have to go work off that ice cream I just ate while I wallow in pain.

Gee, I wonder why I have a body that misbehaves? I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I ate rhubarb crisp for breakfast...