At The Risk Of Jinxing It All

You know good things happen in threes? Last night at Body Pump I was working out behind a lass whos arse, and I shit you not, was bigger and lumpier than mine.
I spent most of the hour trying to work out where her arse actually ended and I think it was around her knees.

*takes a moment to be smug*

To recap:
1. I did not have the largest arse in the room for one whole hour.
2. I've left a job I despised.
3. In under two weeks I'll be flying to Australia for a year.

Once the reality that all this is happening finally sinks in I think I may just wee myself.

*claps like a spastic*

Anyway, if I don't blog for a bit its because I'm off to visit the various friends and family I have scattered around the North West where I shall be avoiding various perils including but not limited to:

Liverpool - Might wake up on bricks.
Warrington - Possibility of casual headbuttings.
Ashton - Last time I was up there I was informed it had been unofficially renamed "Slashton." Nice.
Manchester - Extreme inebriation followed by vomiting into a bin and/or over the shoes of those unfortunate to be too close.

Yeah, that used to happen a lot.

Just So You Know

I've cleared my desk, deleted the slacking tools games from My Documents, peeled the tea stains from the inside of my mug and I did contemplate leaving a small bag of prawns inside the PC tower but I thought better of it.

Today is my last day in this job and I fully intend to do fuck all all day, I've been practising hard for the past 12 months so I should have it nailed by now.

Anyway (Piggy's fave word), I have nothing witty or clever to add to that, I just wanted to gloat.

Bloody hell, I almost smiled then...

*runs off to check for facial cracks*

Fuckkit's Last Weekend In Oxford

Saturday: Oxford in Quite A Nice Day, Actually shocker.
Tour Oxford's beer gardens, drinking *coughs*shandy*coughs* and eating my fat allowance for the next three months.
Waddle home at a relatively early hour with a belly the size of a 13 year old chav who hasn't yet discovered condoms.

Sunday, 12pm: Roast dinner at the Hobgoblin, throughly enjoyed once the fat had been cut off the lamb and the pieces of brillo pad removed from the chicken.

2pm: Off to the Temple to drink more and get thrashed at pool then on to the JST to... well... drink more.

6pm: The Bowlplex Ultimate Chav Experience; Processed chicken nuggets which are currently sat in my stomach refusing to digest and a couple of rounds of bowling. Drink some wine out of a tiny bottle and say "Init" a lot in order to blend in with the locals.

9pm: The Brit for quiz night. Finish getting drunk.

12am: Slip into a coma for the ensuing 7 hours.

Monday, 9am: Brought crashing down to earth with the painful realisation that Sunday is in fact a school night and I now have to converse with customers in a polite ond coherant manner whilst my stomach finds 101 ways to tell me it hates me.

Priceless?

Gym membership: £35 a month
Trainers: £55
Impulse Purchase of heart rate monitor: £9.99

Knowing that all this working out won't make a blind bit of difference if I continue to consume my own body weight in cake every week:
The teeth of the next person who says it to my face on a piece of string around my neck.

So Terribly British

One of our favourite things to do here in Britain aside from drinking tea (*glares at Andi*) and standing in queues is discussing the weather although fuck knows why as conversations inevitably consist of:

"Raining again."
"Yep."

But today its not raining. Today is Almost Warm.

For those of you not familiar with British weather, Almost Warm is that teasing bit just before summer Almost Happens, where you still need a jumper but you can tie it round your waist when the sun isn’t hidden behind the statutory black clouds.

After Almost Warm you get Warm Enough which is where you get to strip off and lie in the back garden whilst keeping an eye on the ever present clouds with a blanket close to hand for when the sun disappears behind them.
Then comes An Excuse For Summer which lasts 7-8 days, 5 of which you’ll be at work, then it’s Autumn and it rains again.

Oh yes, we’re renowned for our complaining but come on, admit it, we’ve got a fucking good excuse.

No Pain, No Gain? Bollocks To That.

Despite the Bordering On Obsessive amount of working out I do my stomach looks like I've been masturbating with a bicycle pump, its been bloated like this for weeks, if it wasn't for the fact that there's no chance of me being knocked up I'd be sat in a hot bath with a bottle of gin and a substantial amount of paracetamol by now.

In an attempt to flatten my stomach I went to a Norgoff Synergy class on Wednesday which is basically lying on a mat and being tortured working your core muscles and two days on I still feel like a gang of 9 year olds took a baseball bat to my ribs, kicked me in the stomach and ran off with my chips.
Judging by the pain I’m in I reckon I must have rock hard abs, it’s just hard to tell at the moment through the layers of fat. I know I should cut down on the Crème Eggs but I don’t want to go to hell for defying God’s Word.*

Ah well, I'll start the diet after my four day celebration of chocolate Easter weekend.

See, Christians do have uses other than lion food after all.

* "Thou shalt eat as much egg shaped chocolate as thou can throughout March and/or April, (depending on where they decide to put the anniversary of the death and resurrection of Jesus this year), to honour the name of Christ himself or thou shalt face my wrath and thus the firey pits of Hell, weather permitting."

Incidently, a massive fucking congratulations to ShiftClick who beat 179 other applicants to get a job with a Four Word Title. In her own words; Fuckin A!

Ten. Working. Days.

You are seeing this message in lieu of a proper post as it is Fuckkit's last month in this job and according to The Rules she is no longer required to think between the hours of 9am and 5pm.

She has currently regressed to a semi-comatose state similar to that of a lobotomised monkey although normal service may be resumed after a satifactory quantity of tea has been consumed.

We apologise for any inconvenience caused but are still accepting cake donations on behalf of the blogger.

Now piss off and do some bloody work for a change.

Things That Have Disturbed Me

The way I dress has always been considered Alternative, with my penchant for black clothes, preferably with an array of zips and chains that get caught on things and dig in when you sit on them.
Large, heavy boots with spikes and general discomfort were always the order of the day so you can imagine my dismay when the dawning realisation that I may be on the cusp of Chav hit me. Early warning signs include:

• Excessive use of the word "Init" both at the end of every sentence and as a word in its own right.
• The realisation that tracksuit bottoms are Quite Comfy, Actually.
• Going from refusing to even own a pair of trainers to owning two pairs, and wearing them outside of the gym because I like them init.
• Purchasing and wearing a hat that looks enough like a baseball cap to violate the dress code at Ha Ha's. To clarify; I violated a dress code at Chav Central because I looked too much like a chav.
• A sudden and unexplained craving for White Lightning and a tendency to drink Lambrini on the bus.

Thats it, I'm off to throw bricks at buses and shout abuse at policemen. My fate is sealed, I may as well give myself over to the Dark Side.

Init.

(Click HERE for a Cut Out And Keep Chavopoly game)

Half-Nekkid Thursday

I've finally caved and given into HNT. I don't usually do this and I certainly don't intend to make a habit of it but anyway. Ladies, gentlemen and Inexplicable DeVice, without further ado, I give you:

My Arse (As Seen From Space)
This is an actual satellite photo* taken from space, as you can see my arse has Evil Tendencies and is intent on world domination. It already controls northern France and if this rate of growth continues it won't be long before it has the whole of Europe in its putrid clutches.

* NASA budget cuts. Such a shame.

My Face Is Rotting

My entire face is set to fall off because I can't stop hacking at a sore in the corner of my mouth which has marred my usually perfect features. If something's meant to heal then why the fuck did they make scabs so bloody pickable?

Other things guilty of cuntistry today include:

a) The time.
Colleague: Its going a bit slow today init.
Me: Slow? You mean its still only Tuesday??

b) Actually having to work, and being checked up on by my team leader who asks all kinds of questions including "Why hasn't this been done yet?"

Things not guilty of cuntistry:

Only 16 working days left.

Let's Talk About ME Some More

I went into town to get my tits measured and left with:

• Shockingly expensive moisturiser to stop my face from flaking off
• A book about Australia
• A watch
• Camera accessories
• Two pairs of shorts
• A Creme Egg because its a slur on Jesus' name if you don't eat a certain amount a week and I simply don't have time for the Wrath Of God right now.

Can we spell s-h-o-p-a-h-o-l-i-c?

Miraculously I even remembered to buy £50 worth of Nork Hammocks to ensure that my nipples don't become too well aquainted with my knees in later years.

I also had a good chuckle at the tourists in plastic ponchos although I soon stopped laughing when the heavens opened and I ended up drenched.

Again.

Cunts.