Guilty pleasures

I'm sat here in my very cream room on my very cream bed using my very cream Mac and I'm feeling very grey. Last night I felt awful, so much so I was carted away from my London flat back home to the sticks to be given some well needed TLC while I recover from the sniffles. I've been stuck in bed for most of the day, doing university work - so far, I've written a film review, two news pitches, and a target market analysis. Writing it out like that makes it look much less impressive... usually, I wouldn't mind doing the work but my head feels like it's been hit by a frying pan and everything seems to take thrice the time.
Nevertheless, it's times like these that I just want to bundle myself to the sofa, surround myself with soft furnishings and watch The Hills. Back to back. All day long. GORGING on popcorn. There's just something inherently fabulous about The Hills and I'm not ashamed to admit I own seasons one through four. Yes, I know it's staged, and not just because I read the miniscule MTV warning but because I'm sad enough to have watched so many seasons to notice discrepancies (LAUREN how could you claim not to have received a Chanel bag before and then be carting one around to the nail salon before coming back and then at Christmas time you open your present from Jason and it's the Chanel bag you were carting around before when you went to the nail salon even though that was days before you open the present!!!! *sharp intake of breath* trust MY keen eye to pick up on any Chanel shenanigans). But I'm still addicted, and I'm pretty much 99% sure The Hills is clinically proven to be less dangerous than crack, even if it is as addictive, so that's good.
I'm starting to get BlackBerry induced lazy crazy eye; I keep thinking the little red light is flashing when it isn't! A true sign if ever there was one that sleep was needed. Goodnight world!!
Image courtesy of frillr