I'm watching the State of Origin. Men in tight, tight, oh sweet baby jesus, they're too tight, shorts. A distinct lack of biffo so far.
A wino tried to talk to me about the Super 15 while I was waiting for a bus yesterday. I am concerned I am exuding an air of 'rugby fan', although I can see that complaining about that while watching the State of Origin might not be sensible.
The wino also said that if I got home and my husband or boyfriend hadn't cooked me dinner then I should demand he go out and get me takeaways. I suddenly regretted not having a husband to demand this service of. I want takeaways! Stat! There is a nagging wife buried in me that just wants an outlet.