Friday, January 11, 2008

Please, Kill Me

Over a week spent cycling to work every day, then swimming, then cycling home - with ten hours no-time-for-lunch-or-any-other-kind-of-break stress in between due to boss being away and running everything virtually solo.

Total weight loss thus far: two fucking pounds. Normal for most people, not normal for me considering this is week two and I normally lose tons when embarking on a 180° lifestyle change. Fucking stubborn middle age.

I haven't smoked or drank this year (barring the fags I used up on New Year's Day, and a bottle of wine that was lying about the flat last Saturday) - and I don't miss either except, it has transpired, on weekends when I get twitchy and bored and feel I should be doing something big and rowdy and conspicuously expensive.

I have developed a twitchy left eyelid and a painful mouth ulcer because the boss is away in Japan - thus I am virtually running the company solo. His father, the MD, and another colleague are with me too, but generally they pass all calls and queries on to me anyway - even when I'm on other calls or with cuntstomers.
I will now be looking for another job in earnest. I simply ain't paid enough for all this.

This year, I've been tentatively looking at my novel, my magnus opus first draft I shat out last year with a view to re-writing it into draft two. But it's shit, awfully, awfully shit. I can't even look at it on the page as it fills me with regret and bile and angst - so there's goes my successful literary career.

My sparse communications with ex-American ladyfriend have hit an all-time low. Although it would appear that she doesn't object to me flying out to the States to meet her for lunch or some such shit, neither is she particularly overjoyed at the prospect in the slightest, causing me to evaluate why I'm even going there in the first place.

So I'm not.

I've taken the hint.


After almost a year.

All I have to do is change fucking everything.

And now to do some sit ups, change, and cycle to work.
In the rain.



Vi vi vi vooom!!!!!!!! said...

Giving up smoking and trying to lose weight at the same time, sort of cancels things out (well, slows the weight loss down a bit) Saying that, you are doing brilliantly to do both, so don't give up on it!

*vi just puts out cigarette*

Anonymous said...

mate, re ladyfriend: I told you it would come to nought a couple of weeks ago at the Sverige thing! Come to St. Petersburg with me instead. Russia - the way forward

Shoshana said...

"cuntstomers" - I love it. That's totally added to my dictionary.

Z said...

You think that's middle age? Look at me if you want to gaze on sodding middle age. My doctor has forbidden me to lose more than a stone in a year as it's not good for me at my fucking (middle) age.

I'm then allowed to lose another bloody stone next year.

I've added 'cuntstomers to my vocabulary, too. Thank you.

luna said...

You used to do too blooming little,i.e. fuck all viz your health and now you're doing too much.
Can you not pace yourself?
Your body thinks it's getting terminally starved and is hanging on to every spare fat cell for dear life.Eat or balloon up.

fwengebola said...

Vi ~ Great advice! Shame I'm smoking right this very instant. But give up, I won't.
See? Even my positivity sounds negative.
Anon ~ Who are you, the fucking Oracle? And what's with your St Petersberg obsession? It's the women, isn't it? I may actually be going there for a mate's stag, btw.
Shosh ~ Everyone seems to love that phrase. I'm surprised you do, mind.
Z ~ Oh my god, you've been warned off dieting properly? Jesus. Still, a year to lose a stone? Sounds possible. Although some kind of hell, too.
Luna ~ I can't do anything in half-measures. I'm an all-or-nothing kinda guy.
Which has now become nothing.