bulk :: 16st 0 (aaaaarrrgh! When am I going to break that bastard's back?)
cigarettes :: 0
joints :: 0
alcohol :: some
runs :: 2 (seems I don’t want to fuck the horse at all. Seems I shall spend the rest of my life a big paunchy mediocre bastard. Why can’t I have Rafael Nadal’s body?! Why?! Oh yes, because I am mentally and physically lazy. ROAR!!!! Where is my passion?! Why aren’t I a roaring boy? Balls to me. What I deserve is a really good hiding.)
swims :: 0 (lazy shitbag)
chocolate biscuits :: 0 (progress!)
Odd Couple-style arguments with Keith :: 7 (one about not throwing things away; one about throwing things away; one about tennis; one about Keith not doing enough art; one about him not commenting on the comments on his blog; two about women)
games of tennis :: 1 (back spazzed out again – so why the hell haven’t I been to a chiropodist yet? I must want to be a failure.) (Chiropractor. I mean chiropractor.)
wanks :: 412 (meh)
So. It’s official. I am on heat. Two weeks now, and in that time I have become transformed. I am now nothing more than a giant pulsating testicle. Sixteen stone of stagnant sticky manwash enclosed in a diaphanous sheath of sweat, hair and cellulite. Any moment now I could snap, crackle and pop, splashing my spicy clam right in your eye.
Really. It feels like it's becoming untenable.
So. Earlier this week I figured, before I become a danger to anything in a brassiere, I’d better do something about it. (I would never really become a danger to anything in a brassiere. Honest I wouldn’t.)
Persuading Keith was actually much easier than I thought. At first he was like, ‘Get fucked. What am I, desperate?’ and I was like, ‘Yeah’, and he was like, ‘Get a life, bozo’, and I was like, ‘Why are you talking like that, you great nonce?’ and he was like, ‘Whatever’. Then I said, ‘Although you might not be desperate, many of the women in the room with you will be, and you’ll most likely be able to trick one of them into thinking you might be able to love her, just long enough to slip inside her and damage her forever, you vile misogynist.’
He thought about this for a moment.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘But you’d better be right.’
Men are monsters.
But women are monsters too.
And so it was that Keith and I went speed dating last night. And boy oh boy oh boy oh boy what it fun. Well was it? Actually, it was. But I can’t possibly begin to talk about it now. It’ll take me all weekend to
Lust is awful, isn’t it? I mean, I think it’s awful. You might not. I'm finding it overwhelming at the moment. I feel like I’m half here. At best.
Have a splendid weekend.