You probably don't need to read this...

I wasn't intending on blogging today as I'm hot and hungover; not an ideal combination. I'm aware that this is blogging, 'technically speaking' however, it's not one of those, 'proper' posts. I'm probably not going to include a picture either. Man, am I treating you guys today! 
It seems pretty much everywhere has been hot these last few days. Like, seriously, melt-your-face-off warm. After consulting my room thermometer, (Yes, I own such a thing) I can positively announce that my apartment is hell in brick form. Or 30 degrees Celsius; whichever way you want to look at it. I'm sitting in my pants being blasted by my industrial strength, metal fan to no avail. I have spent almost the entire day in a state of undress and that isn't a particularly nice visual for anyone, so I do apologise. 
As for the hangover, it was purely accidental. You see, there's this big festival thing going on at the moment in the town in which I currently live; but there will be more of that to follow in a later post. It's over the whole weekend and is basically just an excuse for everyone to get really, really drunk. Not angry drunk, but dancing on a rock with your bum hanging out kind of drunk. I didn't witness this, but I thought it was worthy of a mention. I got caught up in the festival fever and now here we are. So, from my half-assed explanation, you can see that this stupid hangover isn't entirely my fault. 
If the heat and the hangover aren't already enough to start me shedding tears of self-pity, I'm also having a genuine food crisis. Loosely translated as - I can't remember the last time I went food shopping and there's nothing in the cupboards. Which, on a hangover day, is the worst possible scenario anyone could ever be faced with. I've ventured into the kitchen several times just to browse the kitchenware, and opened the fridge door a few times for the cold blast alone. I managed to throw together a tuna sandwich for, 'breakfast' although, considering I ate it nearer to lunch, I feel cheeky even calling it that. I've toyed with the idea of eating a handful of dry Coco Pops, but then I remembered that I'm not an eight year old child, and, well... it's not exactly gourmet dining is it? I live about ten steps from a shop where I could actually source proper food, but that requires far more effort than I can currently muster. (If you saw the state of my face right now, you would understand) Also, I've got an Amy Winehouse style beehive going on at the moment and that's just better being kept out of sight.
HOWEVER
In slightly more promising news, one of Scott's work colleagues is having a BBQ tonight!! How bloody exciting. I'm wondering if it would be socially acceptable to rock up in my pants and have someone just feed me burgers. Thoughts? 
With that beautiful image still lingering in your mind, I am going to leave you with this puzzling thought of the day - Is an orange called an orange because it is orange, or is the colour orange, called orange because of oranges?