It's raining! Yay!
My exercise regime is back on track, albeit only recently. I'm not going to be 5 kilos over weight next New Years Eve.
But, of course, I'm smoking again. Grrr!
I don't know how the fat chicks in tracky pants, or the beefy blokes in King-Gees with beer guts do it. I can feel the bit I've gained hanging off me. It feels odd. It's so much more about how I feel and not how I look - although, not completely. I am a fag, after all. It is about how I look, too. How do those pigs I see everyday in the city feel? They must just feel foul.
I give up smoking. I put on weight. I start smoking again. Christian's quit smoking merry-go-around.
I've been riding my bike every second day, in preparation for riding it every day. Mostly, that is an arse requirement. I find my bum is the sorest part, to start off with, when riding every day.
Today is the second day and the rain comes down.
He, he, he thinks quietly to himself - berating himself for being a lazy bastard.
Of course, the rain only lasted a minute, so it's back to bike riding.
Must go and get my act together and ride over to Lotties. Can I ride stoned? Note to self, no more joints.
But first, there is the newspaper to read and coffee to drink... and the couch to lay on. Ah! (big yawn)
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