This is a picture of pitiful. I went downstairs and all I could smell was the fried chicken that Blaine is eating. It's not his fault, he has to eat. He doesn't cook much. He was nice enough to stay downstairs and not eat in front of me. I swear I'm not mad at him. But I had to come upstairs and just bawl. It smelled so good and all I could do was pick up a stupid Cocoa Cafe bar and stomp upstairs. I'm gonna make it through this. I'm determined. But right now, I'm having a pity party!