When my old faithful delivery guy from Hunan Gate arrived, he looked a little puzzled, but was gracious as usual. He tried to make conversation when I chatted him up about the Olympics, but I could tell he just wanted to get the hell out of there.

After I closed the door, I realized that I was wearing little more than a smedium tank top and boy shorts. Oh, let's not forget the acne cream on my face. WTF?

When did I become Bridget Jones !?!?!??!

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