Author: Mosh

Wake up. Little twinge. No worries. Sort brekkie. Feed cats. Get dressed. Brush teeth. Leave house. Get in car. Pull door shut.

*TWANG*

Ya ******.

I’ve spent all day at work, hobbling around like a cripple. It takes me a minute to stand up and there’s no guarantee that I won’t collapse once I’ve done that. Lunch was spent in the sauna at the gym (which did help – for 20 minutes or so), but I don’t seem to have one in the house.

I’m now sat on the sofa at home with a hot water bottle against the base of my spine and some prescription anti-inflammatory painkillers courtesy of my senior manager.

The miniature cold I have isn’t helping. Mainly when I sneeze and my spine attempts to shoot out my arse. On the other hand, at least I might get tomorrow off work. But only because I may not be able to walk.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

I’ll hold back from whinging about the fact that I now have to hit one extra button to get a balance enquiry texted to my phone, and instead point out a slight lapse in logic.

You dial 191. “Welcome to Vodafone Customer Services blah blah helpful blah advisor blah. Please choose one of the following two options. If you are calling from the telephone about which you wish to make an enquiry, push 1…”

I press 1.

“Please choose from one of the following 5 options. If you are calling to report your telephone lost or stolen, your SIM card damaged, or to request an unlock code to access your phone…”

…erm… then you shouldn’t really have picked option 1 should you, you stupid ****?

Apologies to anyone in the Fitness First in Halifax on Sunday afternoon. I was the one in the Newcastle top on the running machine for the second half, shouting “yes!” and “get in!” when we scored, flailing his arms and almost coming a cropper when losing his footing.

have you ever tried jumping or closing your eyes while on a running machine? ******* difficult. And rather embarassing when you go shooting off the end.

Anyway.

The goals were perfectly timed to give me a little boost each time I was really flagging. Better than Lucozade!

Frankly, I’m rather chuffed. 45 minutes on the bike, 45 minutes on the treadmill covering around 35 kilometres between the two. Needless to say, my legs were sodding knacking on Monday.

Picture update

As promised roughly ******* ages ago, I’ve uploaded some pictures of the astoundingly beautiful Bex Marshall to my Fotopic Gallery. Enjoy, but don’t leave the keyboard sticky. This goes for at least one woman out there I know, as well as the blokes…

He does – I’ve met him. The poor bugger’s been forced to stay in Bradford (well, Bingley) for a night. Out of sympathy I offered to share some alcoholic beverages with him. I hope he doesn’t regret it…

Even worse, he’s invited me down to Stoke sometime. Ho ho ho. Does he know what he’s let himself in for?

Kitty update

For those trying to keep up, KK’s tail seems to be getting better. The vet looked at it last week and couldn’t spot anything serious. No “crunching” so it didn’t seem broken, and no scabbing or massive swelling so it didn’t look bitten. A week on from the vet trip and she seems a bit better with it, so hopefully it’s sorting itself.

Ed still has bollocks (and quite prodigious ones, judging by the vet’s reaction when he saw them), but I’m trying to talk Sarah into having them lopped off. They could be recycled by tying them onto a bit of string and used as a cat toy.

As I’ve not been reaching depths of disgustingness for a while

If you **** a pregnant woman, is that classed as a three-in-a-bed romp? Or even better, a bit of mother/daughter action? Or is it kind of gay if she’s carrying a boy?

I am a bad boy. I did some DIY this afternoon (huge thanks to Steve for his help) and around halfway through the 2 hours’ slog, arsefuck had his stereo whacked up to near Disaster Area volumes.

Fine, I thought, we’ve been hammering away since midday. I’m not going to whinge now.

Come 2:00 and the job was done. So I popped next door. Being polite at first (as I always am – I only lose my rag if polite doesn’t work), I first of all apologised for the banging but said that I was all done and could they knock the volume down a bit now.

I then got a tongue-lashing for waking “him” up after he worked late last night.

I am ashamed because I kept my tempter. Instead of doing what I should have done, I pointed out – again, politely – that they should have knocked on the door and I’d have done the work at another time. I even stressed that they should please do this next time. After all, if they know they can whinge at me it makes it look less of a one-way street.

What I really ought to have done was laugh, say “good” and pointed out that it made up for him and his squealing friend waking me up at 2:45am on Wednesday.

Thank **** I’m off out to watch the match in an hour. I’m rapidly running out of patience with the selfish, insolent, rude little cocksucker.