I am always happy to poke fun at the news when they make an overseas tragedy a top news story because there is at least one British person involved (noteable exception is the Chilean Miners but that was an exception not a rule), when they would ignore the same story if there was no British people involved. “How parochial!” I exclaim, before removing my pocketwatch and winding it on and then replacing my tophat. But when I woke up in the morning and learned of the earthquake in New Zealand, I immediately took it seriously because I know someone with family over there.
Family I have not, nor will ever meet – but it made me listen. And it was a good four or five minutes, and the assurance of my girlfriend that it was not the area of New Zealand the people lived in that I was able to relax a little bit: and fondly remember the WWF tag-team The Natural Disasters (one of whom was called Earthquake).
And that’s how quickly one can become desensitized to a truly horrific loss of human life. I had gone from being worried that a friend may lose loved ones to laughing at the memory of two very fat men running around in leotards 20 years ago (the act was 20 years ago, the memory was now) in a matter of minutes.
I forced myslef to to go the gym later. I am managing to maintain small amounts of excercise without actually starting to get in shape. It the kind of fence-sitting my growingly massive girth can no longer sustain. I am going to have to relent that I am going to become massively fat by giving up excercise. Or be a bit more committed to running/the gym/5-a-side and maintain my current level of ‘just obese’. The latter is the better from a health perspective, and I have spent quite a lot of money on clothes that will no longer fit me if I get fatter. The counter-weight (pun not intended) to this is that within about three minutes of running slightly quicker than normal I wanted to die. True: the best preparation for excercise is not a boozy Saturday and then two days of eating shit. Never the less, it did hurt and I did think that I should maybe accept my fate as a fat man: and maybe cheer up a bit and become a nicer – more fun person, in keeping with the stereotype of fat men.
But now as I sit typing this with a picture of WWF (it was the WWF when they were in it, I am not calling it the WWE just because it has changed since) fat arses staring back at me I have to face the facts; I am not cheery enough to be a fat man, I like all my clothes too much. Right..decision made, I shall fight on to maintain just being the fat cunt I am not and not become one of those men whose belly hangs over their cock.
Where did I put my Ryan Giggs Fitness DVD?*
*I really have bought that.
As yesterdays ‘Food I’ve Eaten’ extra was not well received, this will be the last in the series.
Breakfast: Weetabix, 2, with semi-skimmed milk: warmed for 100 seconds. (Standard)
Snack: chocolate covered flapjack (6.7/10)
Lunch: carrot & coriander soup, two (small) ham buns and a packet of Walkers Boiled Crisps, Ready Salted (satisfying)
Tea: Two poached eggs, Heinz Baked Beans and Sausages, Two slices of toast (fantastic)
Snack: Aero Caramel (going off them).