Well hello there...

Welcome to my blog. Brb... I'm making memories (read as: Wine. I'm going to get some wine...)

Bum Like a Peach

So if I EVER utter the words “Oh I'll just do that pull out thingy from Women's Health” again... slap me... Ok no wait, maybe not a slap because that will get your arse beaten like a pinata. Maybe... just advise me not too. In a strong voice say “Nayyyyyyy!” (would be cool if you could do it in a nice Sean Connery voice too – it's... soothing). I had a bad day. One of those days when you're not at that hysterical laughter stage. You know the one I mean... “Oh look a 3000 page dissertation to write on the use of staples in the modern world” *hysterical laughter followed by much eye twitching* Oh well isn't that lovely *happily skips off to go have a cocktail* (The Bar man at Cheeky Monkey down the road gives me free drinks... I think it's because he may think that I'm a bit off upstairs... and the twitching makes him incredibly nervous – maybe it's the twitching and the occasional “FUCKKNUCKLE” that bursts out of my mouth)

No no, you're not at that stage. You have hop skipped and jumped right over that little breakdown and gone solidly for the kind of eye twitching that gets your colleagues to slam their office doors and push their filing cabinets infront of it because yes, they saw you holding that stapler, and they saw the staple refills in your pocket and they know you mean business. (Well it's the staples, and that finger across your throat thing that the All Blacks always do at the rugby that you keep doing - only with more spittle flying).

So anyways... Gods I digress.

I came home, and found myself at a cross roads of sorts. Such hard decisions. Shall I have a glass / just-drink-out-the-bottle of wine. Or shall I go to gym. I can never do both. Well because I'll probably lose my cornflakes on the stairmaster, or I'll go flying arse first off the treadmill. Either way, I'll hurt. And I'll probably end up doing the ugly cry.

Can you SEE why this is such a hard decision. So anyhoo. Dalekins decided for me and poured me a nice jam jar of wine.

But oh the attack of the guilts. Pffft.

So I decided that I would do the exercises on a pull out that comes with the Womens Health. You know, a quick 15-minute Make-your-bum-look-like-a-peach in just 8 easy steps exercise thingy mabobby.  Because I am no girls blouse! I am brave that way!

The words: “Oh fuckydoooooo” and “Jou ma se vissie” may have been uttered aloud.

(Less peach like and more prune like I'm thinking)

15 minutes my arse. If you're Jane Fonda on CRACK maybe you freaking fat liars!!! I may or may not sue. I'm undecided *sniff* … and suing would entail me lifting my bum off this couch. Not ready to make such a big step yet.

I am almost positive I have pulled a kwakkie muscle. My legs are shaking. I have pulled something under my bum, not quite sure it's a muscle, but almost sure it never used to be there.

So this workout was supposed to get me INTO my favourite pair of jeans was it?

And how do you smartarses propose I do that when I cannot even lift my leg?

To author of offensive workout: The only core you'll be strengthening is your own when you have to clench to keep my foot out of your butt!  Merde!

Give me a few days though... unless you're prepared to just come sit down on it *eyes foot*

Myth Busted!

Bump in the Night