I shouldn't say I'm in stasis, because I'm not. I simply can't be bothered to keep dieting, nor can I be bothered not to keep dieting. After all, I am hoping very very soon to start dating again, as soon as I've a) written my turd of a book and b), lost enough weight to feel like I can get naked in front of one of those breasts and vagina owners.
Nonetheless, I'm just bobbling along with a vicious, vice-like grip around my cranium because I'm tired, boo hoo. I had seven hours sleep last night, but I needed ten. I can't for the life of me figure out why I need more sleep than a newborn, but there we go.
Days passed: 28
Routes cycled to/ from work: 40
Lengths swum: 177
Lbs lost: 8
Cigarettes smoked: More than 126.
Beers/ Spirits drunk: Starting to forget.
Drugs snorted: Still none.
As long as I bother to cycle to work and swim myself clean, I may as well carry on. I'm actually looking forward to November just to have a new month to endure, plus I'll get paid. And if Obama doesn't get elected, I will kill myself.
The weather has suddenly got a lot colder, which makes cycling that little bit more unpleasant, and those spiteful, arrogant fucksters otherwise known as motorists aren't helping. In one 14-hour period last week, I found myself in no less than three altercations, one where I screamed at a man in stationary traffic because he sped up behind a bus at 30mph covering a distance of about 8 yards in the process, because he spotted my signalling right arm extended as I tried to get past him and THAT JUST WOULDN'T DO.
Clearly my life is less important to him than the ignominy of remaining stuck in a rush-hour bog and I told him as much, except I called him a FUCKING CUNT and a SELFISH ARSEHOLE while he grinned and waved back childishly.
The following morning, some bastard in a Volkswagen blaring out the Grease soundtrack did likewise in another queue of traffic - the golden rule here seems to be; If I can't get to work, no-one shall get to work, so I did the mature thing and twatted his wing mirror as I cycled passed a second time, then pedalled off very, very quickly.
Ten minutes later as I approached work, a bendy bus that I was half way past decided to pull out and continue down the road despite the fact that the road was narrowing dangerously and he was beginning to force me into parked cars. I screamed out, braked hard, and came to a halt while he took off down the road only to seconds later come to a standstill at red lights, the third motorist who'd rather see me killed just so they can keep moving for a quarter of a minute.
I shamed myself by screaming blue murder at the driver; punching his window, demanding he look at me and stop being a coward, and generally letting the whole bus know that he was also a FUCKING RETARD and a WANKER who shouldn't be allowed on the road.
Please date me - I'm lovely.