Fork you

It’s still hot. Tokyo has had its worst snow in 45 years. And I still have Japanese customers that I need to entertain. This week should be the last of them, I hope, until October-ish. I spent my Saturday afternoon booking golf for them. I swear I don’t get paid enough.

Today was very pleasant actually as my levels of under-boob sweat were manageable, but next week it’s not going to be as fun:

photo

I can see why you guys won’t give up on your Fahrenheit. Having numbers close to 100 does make it seem more impressive…

The highlight of my week was making whoopee pies. I’ve been wanting to jump onto the whoopee pie bandwagon for a good year or so, but never got around to it. A $1.25 box of Betty Crocker Triple Chocolate Whoopie Pies turned up on the clearance aisle at the supermarket the other week (marked down from about $5) and I knew the universe was sending me a message that it was time to have whoopee pies in my life.

What happened as a result was that I ate myself into oblivion, gave myself a stomach ache that saw me wanting to stick my fingers down my throat at 2am this morning and I felt very content (after the nausea had abated and I’d sweated out half my body weight at body combat).

I’ve added a bit more weight training into my gym routine and I have to say that I’m seeing results. I’ve got definition in my shoulders, people!!

If only weight training didn’t make me want to slit my wrists, everything would be perfect. Honestly, why does exercise have to be so HARD and BORING? Why can’t it be like mashing 5 whoopee pies into your mouth and washing them down with a Kahlua and milk? (embarrassing but true story…) Because then I’d be all happy as larry to do my exercise.

Yes, yes, I know if I didn’t eat 5 whoopee pies and wash it down with a Kahlua and milk I wouldn’t need to exercise, but meh…you know how I roll.

I’d also like to point out at this time that my instructor comes to the gym early and does a pre-workout, workout because he ENJOYS it and that just makes me want to stab a fork in my eye.

Speaking of stabbing people in the eye with a fork, every single bus I got onto last week had one annoying person having a REALLY loud, banal conversation on their phone. There was also one guy who was facetiming…on the bus…really…you can’t live in Perth and be so busy that you’ve got no time to facetime except during your commute. All the shops close at 5pm!!!

I heard about some dude’s vacation to Latvia (“Only five days in Latvia…and then we’re going to…no, five days…five days in Latvia because Tom can’t take more than a month’s leave”), some chick’s bitch-fight (“And I held Carly down and slapped that bitch across the face and then Wayne came over and pulled me off and I wanted to kick that cunt in the nuts”) and some overly enthusiastic leader of a single parent’s club vetting a prospective member (“And why did you come to Perth? Oh…I see you wanted to get as far away from your crazy ex as possible…yeah…I can see why Perth would work for that.”) amongst the conversations.

Just shut the fuck up on the bus or I will stab you in the eye with a fork.

You have been warned.

fork

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