God, I’m fabulous.

Since I moved out of the Colliers Wood flat, Ian’s diet has been getting progressively worse. Mine hasn’t been comparably that much better, but there has been the odd butternut and broccoli floret thrown in for fun. So last night we had a proper meal, for the first time in ages, and he was frying up some deelish pork chops.

So he’s all: “How’s random girl person?”
And I’m like: “Oh I dunno. I’m not very happy with her at the moment.”
He: “Why?”
Me: “She’s so SELF-OBSESSED.”
He: “…”
Me: “What? What is that supposed to mean?”
He: “Nothing, I didn’t say…”
Me: “You think I’m self-obsessed and that it’s hypocritical of me to say that.”
He: “I didn’t say that.”

It’s something like what Peter says while watching Seinfeld in Family Guy: “Ha ha! It’s funny because it’s true.”

I’m pretty sure that when Chris wrote this post and mentioned narcissist blogging he had my blog (among others) in mind. And that’s okay – I’ve never claimed to have a topic other than myself here. At first it was all, Nat at Uni. Then, Nat at Uni and Away From Ian. And now Nat in London. Briefly, Nat in London and Away From Ian (see: previous month). Now, Nat in London and Back With Ian and Loving It Thanks.

I probably don’t have a very good reason to be self-obsessed. I ain’t no Raymi, I ain't no Jenny Good. I ain’t even no Bryanboy (although at least he has an angle, people!). But, sadly, rockit is about nothing if not about me. And maybe that’s sad or whatevs but hey. Rather that than random linkage to inane but strangely appealing things all the time.

I don’t know what I wanted to achieve here. Maybe it was just to end the couple of day’s worth of silence here. Or to let you know that I know it’s all ME ME ME around here.

Blah.