Because Failbot

My new clothes arrived by mail today.

I have taken to buying a lot of stuff for myself as bribes for quitting smoking. The depressing part about my nicotine addiction is that nothing can make me quit except weekly bribes. Pictures of grey lungs doesn't motivate me. My BF's mother's hacking cough doesn't motivate me. The lingering smell of ashtray that follows me around doesn't motivate me. The fact that I cannot fly without going into severe nicotine withdrawal rage when the airport have banned all smoking doesn't motivate me. It should, because it makes me unpleasant and smelly and likely to die with grey insides, but it don't.

Apparently the only thing I really care about is shiny new stuff that internet can provide for me. Which is slightly ironic (hello, Alanis) because I rant about the evils of capitalism with the best of Marxists. Daily.

The good news is that most of the new clothes are completely awesome and that they make me look awesome (well slightly, if you squint and ignore the ladynerd hair). The bad news is the coral dress, which makes me look coral, pregnant and bloated. Even my boyfriend nah-ed it and my boyfriend is colour-blind and likes everything on me. I am thinking about sending it back, but I know I wont, and it will sit in my wardrobe and be coral and mock me forever.

Is wholewheat tortillas something that exist in the real world outside Sweden or just another way of my country to rape food and call it Mexican?

Interestingly enough I am now having more problems with Peru and Argentina than Madagascar.