Well not TECHNICALLY, but right now I am clearing out my entire kitchen into the spare room in an effort to get me to cook more.
Oh get up off the floor and stop fucking laughing MPS.
One of my biggest frustrations – besides the fact that I cannot stuff myself with carbs and not face the consequences in the mirror or that I have yet to be crowned Miss Australia – is getting my bake on and have to pull apart the motherfucking cupboards to find the motherfucking shit that I need.
It is rather irritating as I am sure you can imagine.
So while Boo was entertaining himself squealing with delight and almost taking flight with flapping while shooting people on the PS3, I decided to empty out the kitchen.
THREE CROCKPOTS WHAT THE FUCK?
And where does all this plastic come from?
Because of my fucked up back I had to kick Boo off the PS3 a few times so I could rest my poor body and catch up with The Real Housewives of All the Places (OMG NEW JERSEY REPRESENT BITCHES!) and then back into the kitchen to attempt to sort years of accumulated noodle bowls and disposable chopsticks and four boxes of cake decorating shizzle.
And we shall not speak of that sweet potato I found. *shudder*
So the THEORY is I will take everything out and only bring shit back in as I need it and what is left goes SOMEWHERE ELSE AND NOT IN THE GARAGE and then when I get the urge to make some prawn laksa or a triple layer chocolate cake with vanilla icing and chocolate ganache, I can find the shit straight away and not be all OMG I FUCKING HATE THIS PLACE AND WHY AM I COOKING ANYWAY LOOK AT THE SIZE OF MY THIGHS!
And then send MPS out for Maccas cause I am depressed.
Except those with shares in McDonalds.
You, my friends, are fucked.