It's one in the morning. I've been eating insanely healthily over the past couple of weeks because my mum isn't present. I just rebelled by eating a Pot Noodle. It was disgustingly brilliant and now I'm going to be healthy again.
I'm still very much powerless to escape the clutches of Grey's Anatomy. I really don't understand where my obsession with American hospital dramas came from, but it's definitely not budging. I was determined to be a doctor when I was young, it's probably that. Then I set foot in a hospital and realised that they actually weren't that pleasant. Nevertheless, when doctors are portrayed by men with great hair and women dripping with sarcasm, I can't resist. I cried a total of three times yesterday; an emotional rollercoaster full of senile mothers and severed penises, quintuplets and adultery, miscarriages and pus. I'm now watching QI for a bit of British normality; just in case I wake up in the morning under the delusion that I am a shit-hot surgeon with cheekbones that could cut cheese.
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