January. And my gym’s full of humans I haven’t seen before. And they don’t half clog the place up. Curiously...although attending a temple of exercise, they do seem extremely reluctant to actually do any; and appear content to just waft aimlessly from workstation to cardio machine without breaking into a sweat. Two birds even managed to row next to each for about five minutes, whilst relentlessly chatting about work bollocks throughout. Dear oh dear. Move on, sisters, I need to have a go. Still, all the cloggers did have nice new gym clobber on: one tart brazenly displayed a ‘70% Off’ tag from the back of her undersized LA Gear top as she breezily pedalled away (Level 0) on a bike and fucked about with her iPhone.
I’m telling you, If William Hill would take my money, I’d soon let him know which one’s won’t be darkening the pedals of the cross-trainer again after the end of the month.
I'm 'fucking gutted'. These two were fatties when the came in. After 40 minutes of posing
and talking bollocks they now look like this. Am I missing a trick?
So, January 2011 and my Bic Biro’s gone all-a-quiver: after ruthlessly ignoring it for ages, I’m going to have a bash at lobbing something into the Mslexia Short Story Competition. If you’re not in the know (and maybe, frankly not that arsed..) Mselxia is a magazine for birds that write. Mind you, if they knew I was using words like ‘birds’ they’d probably burn me at the stake (I do worry when I see anything ‘Just For Women’ – makes me think they could be just a tad on the mad side and suffering from a distinct lack of humour). But there’s hard cash (vodka vouchers) up for grabs and if nowt else, it’s all good practice.
Slight technical hitch – deadline next Friday. Best start peddling like fuck.