I'm afraid that's me. My incredible end-of-year totalitarian Exercise dictatorship has been overthrown. I revolted. It's too cold to cycle (my lungs are thick with tar anyway), thus I'm not burning the crap I'm eating with a vengeance.
I'm enjoying commuting, to a degree. I occasionally spot tubelady, and that cheers me up, even if she's more aloof than a minor Nazi Royal.
And the cute Thai girl in my local supermarket, well, I've not seen her since, in a not-being-served-by-her sense, at any rate.
And frankly, that's no bad thing, because I am a Disgusting Individual for any woman. My weekends are rendered null and void now that virtually all my friends are married or in relationships, barring Russell, who's like a Jack Russell at the moment. I spend my Fridays attacking the booze and last Friday was no exception, but then again I probably noticed it more as my drinking companions that night were my Lovely Muslim Ladyfriend (pregnant), her sister (Muslim), a pocket Hindu who would collapse just smelling a puddle of Kaliber, and Russell who could out-calm and ruffle Barack Obama with his laid-back, not-drinking-that-much demeanour.
So basically, it was just me knocking back the wine and getting lairy, and in a group like that, you really become aware how drunk you're getting.
I distinctly unimpressed a cute, pink-haired Italian waitress that night. I was ignored by vast swathes of the two X chromosome-owning community (the ones with wombs). And I spent the remainder of that night as I did the rest of the weekend, and the weekend before that, and the weekend before that; I drank alone in front of my computer, chain-smoking, not writing my (Ha!) novel, and watching Family Guys on surf the channel.com.
But that's not where the disgust lies. Oh no. It occurred to me over the weekend that perhaps I should wash my duvets, so I walked to the laundromat where the gentleman within told me that two duvets and two pillows would be £11 per item. You do the math(s). Needless to say, I could've walked out and bought new sets of everything - which I didn't - although I probably should. You see, I have never.... NEVER... washed these items, which means the last time I had clean bedding was sixteen years ago.
Sadly, I'm not joking. I had the same duvets at University. YES, the sheets have been washed, but the duvets themselves? Ahem. No.
This means that the last time my duvets were clean, it was 1992. Bryan Adams' 'Everything I do' was Number One for FOUR FUCKING MONTHS.
The Soviet Union still existed.
When Iraqis talked about 'The War', they were referring to the one with Iran.
And Freddie Mercury was alive. (Just).
And my duvets haven't been clean since. I've had colds within them, sweated profusely beneath them, Jesus, I've even had sex with several different women under them, they're that old. And if you remove those clean sheets, they really look crap. There's more semen on that bedding than in the United States Navy.
In fact, I'll wager that if one could harness all that energy from 17 years worth of wanking had beneath that cloth, I daresay you could keep Blackpool lit for at least a week.
Which brings me neatly, if disturbingly, to the real scum of this post, the pinnacle of what makes me such a disgusting individual. Last week - and I really apologise for this (but not enough to not type this) - I was having one of those wanks. It is a wicked, detrimental habit I occasionally flirt with (every night) before shutting my eyes and burping myself to sleep. But I digress; I masturbated furiously and with gusto and deposited my nutspluff into a pre-placed kleenex.
Upon reaching that familiar state of a job well done mixed with colossal disappointment, I threw the damp ball of tissue somewhere at my bedroom wall and went to sleep. The following evening, after a rigorous day unfolding paperclips at work, I was back in front of my home computer when a small white ball caught my eye.
Ah! Eurgh. My issue tissue. I bent down to pick it up and remove the offending article, when I spotted something; the tissue had been nibbled.
The fucking mouse that lives in our flat that our landlord can't be bothered to evict, had been eating my ball.
Oh, and shat next to it too.
This is how I live. I am a disgusting, disgusting individual.