randomrabbit's Diaryland Diary
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Butter the monkey
You know when you try and do the easy right thing but then doing that you make things even worse and then you try to avoid any sort of unpleasantness by just avoiding stuff and then everything spirals a bit and all of a sudden you�re in an episode of Fawlty Towers or one of the more farcical Frasiers? Crap isn�t it? I�m actually an idiot. I appreciate this doesn�t come as a surprise to you but I�ve obviously been deluding myself in to thinking I had at least some sort of rudimentary intelligence. I don�t.
Oh well. Plough on.
We had our induction at the new gym yesterday, which is the same gym just in a different part of the building and with newer stuff. Except you don�t get to go in to the new bit yet, instead they take you in to a little room with a few bits of equipment in and say this is what it�s going to be like, only bigger yeah and with more stuff. So now we�ve got these little Nazi sticks that you have to poke in to every machine before you can use them that keep track of everything you do and how hard you work and then tell you what you need to go do next. While I�m quite fond of the idea of charting my slide in to obesity with tables and colour graphs, it does seem to be a lot of unnecessary fannying about. We go, we plod about for 50 minutes and we leave. We�re really not that organised or committed or unimaginative that we require some sort of fixed regime. We�re free spirits going where the wind takes us, bucking convention and getting fat.
It opens Saturday morning, which I suspect is the only time you could go and lick the seats without it looking odd. I do quite like the thought of my bollock sweat being the inaugural excreta on a piece of equipment but, alas, I already have plans for Saturday, laying face down in bed punching my pillow whilst wondering how I manage to be so stupid.
Awww they drew a picture of their missing dog!
I did like this very much. It gave me vertigo though. Also, what a knob head:
4:20 p.m. - 2008-06-04
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