Monday, 27 July 2009

Monday moaning

Woke up and then went to the gym.

At the gym, me and Chris and er - you've never met him before so let's call him um. This is a process of democracy so I'm going to let you name XXXXXX

To guide you...

XXXXX is 23
XXXXX is built like a brick shithouse

There's not much else to tell you about XXXXX.

Anyway we do arms - an exercise that Chris has made up that's so hectic - were I to show you, you would die in pain.

And here are some pictures...

A Bentley, a Lamborghini and a Mercedes McLaren - outside the Dorchester.

I was in the Dorch to visit Uncle Toblerone.

We all call him Uncle Toblerone because all he will ever buy you is fucking Toblerone, from airport duty free. It's his way of saying "you're my special nephew."

He arrives at the Dorchester in a Bentley. All we get is fucking two-day-old Toblerone. Dickhead.

He's lonely. No-one likes him.

Though he is slightly more respectable than my dad's side of the family. My dad's brother is a poor white and lives in a shack.

His second wife is an alcoholic and her first born (who's about 40 years old) is a crack addict.

I haven't seen my dad's side of the family in years.

They did used to visit on Christmas Day. My dad's brother would pitch up and say "it's Christmas, why not", which was cue for him to pour himself a tumbler of Scotch.

I think one Christmas my uncle may have given my mother a vibrator. That was the last time they visited at Christmas.

There is nothing hotter than a hot guy in Sainsbury's buying condoms.

So hot.

And there's nothing worse than...

dropping a beautiful glass of South African Cab Sav onto the kitchen floor.

Or should that be "a glass of beautiful"... No-one's sure.

I just found a photo I was going to show you on Friday...

I was painting my nails and drinking Stella.

No, don't read anything into it. I sometimes paint my nails. I love sequins.

Sometimes you may have seen me dressed in women's clothing.

I'm sorry to say that it means nothing. I am a guy, I want to be a guy, I am happy being a guy.

Who says guys can't wear nailpolish? Sometimes it looks nice. I was experimenting with red. Usually, I wear dark blues, greens or matte - my favourite.

The Cedric Gervais remix of De'Lacey's song "Hideaway" makes me feel fabulous.

Women have built empires of money on the backs of saying they look fabulous, why shouldn't guys enjoy some of that too? You can't say that he doesn't look cool...


Here are some timings... You can fit them in, as you see appropriate...


Oh god. I feel like the student who's had an entire week to finish an assignment but then realised that at the last minute he has nothing really to say.

Fine. Mark me a C-. Tomorrow I will give you an A.


Dirk Muir said...

I have been really enjoying your day-by-day blogging. Even the C- ones (actually, it's more a B-; you're too hard on yourself).

Anonymous said...

Naming, I'll go with Dirty. It's an homage to a 'dirty blond' guy we worked out with at Bodywork gym on Mykonos.

Not with but at the same time as. He looked like something straight out of Dieux du Stade and kept lifting his shirt to reveal a perfect treasure trail running up and down his perfect tummy.

I think I need to sit down.

Jake said...

Where's the pics of XXXXX? Enquiring (pervy) readers want to see!

I can't say I'm with you on the nail polish thing, I think it's a bit much personally, but whatever rocks your kasbah.

Bobby Cox said...

Nine: I think you need to sit down.