Wednesday, 1 July 2009

Wednesday, 1 July 09

09:03
Wake up.

09:21
Tube

09:54
Office.
Fuck. If only it was as easy as that...

The bits I missed out would look vaguely like:

09:18
Standing next to smelly fucker on Jubilee Line

09:25
Some dickhead has dropped their bottle of orange juice on the platform* at Bond Street station so the safety zealots shut the whole fucking station and I have to walk to fucking Marble Arch...

* = rather, it was a gas leak. Like whatever.

However, it's July 1 so we're not going to let anything get in the way of the good day that we're going to have today.

11:23
In an excruciating meeting that is going on far too long and just when someone says "so I think that's all", someone else then asks "yeah but have we thought about the second unit / additional lighting / the death of Michael Jackson..."
(Delete as applicable)

11:24
Instead of trying to quietly commit harakiri under the desk, I instead decide to use my pen for better purposes...

And along with my notepad I try and think up...

Rude Names For Tube Trains!*
* = it's actually stations but trains rhymes better...

We have:
Marble Arse - Marble Arch
Swiss Frottage - Swiss Cottage
Hole-bum - Holborn
Quite Shitty - White City
Humpstead - Hampstead
King's Cock - King's Cross
Hungwell - Hanwell
Kilbum - Kilburn
Shepherd's Bush - Shepherd's Bush
Cock Farm - Chalk Farm
Cuntpike Lane er...

I think that's enough rude tube stops...

12:07
After the recent disappointment, having learnt the words to all of fucking Lady GaGa's songs only to have my fucking Glastonbury ticket stolen, I am cautiously singing along to some more lyrics.
To make sure I know all the nuances and cadences...

I need to feel I'm getting stronger
Long as I'm moving it feels true
And with each step
I will forget
Forget of all those memories of you

Right, got 'em


14:19
Someone has brought in a massive slab of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut chocolate. I swear to myself that I am only going to have one square.

14:23
One has become like 4. Fuck.

18:21
Give up pretending that I am actually doing anything useful. Need the gym to exercise off the 365 calories those four squares of chocolate have brought...

19:01
In the gym and Liam and I are talking.

We agree that if you're going to get banned from the gym and your membership card shredded, you should have at least done something worthwhile, like getting caught having group sex with a celebrity couple in the toilet.

Not on this occasion.

So Dylan is an arrogant fucker. He's stupid but he's arrogant. He has a right to be arrogant because he works out a lot and he looks amazing. But he's arrogant.

He's one of those guys in the gym on the weights floor who lifts their T-shirts and flexes their sixpack in the mirror.

Dylan's always around, everyone sort of knows who he is.

Anyway, so on Monday the receptionist spots Dylan, about to leave the gym. However, he's walking rather oddly because his bag seems to be incredibly heavy.

There are some strange clinking noises, which she recognises, so she stops him.

She asks Dylan what he's got in his bag but he won't tell her. She says she won't let him out of the gym unless he opens his bag.

To cut long story short (too late, some might say)...

Dylan's bag is full of dumb bells. The idiot is trying to steal fucking dumb bells out of the gym. Like 45 kgs worth of dumb bells!

Apparently he said that he was sick of the gym and wanted to exercise at home and since he was paying the membership fee he thought it was totally appropriate for him to take some weights home with him.

19:07
"Oh yeah", says He Who I Don't Want To Name, who has now joined Liam and I in our gossip.

"That's boring stuff. Everyone knows about Dylan and his fucking dumb bell smuggling...

Instead, you'll never believe what happened last week, but please try and be discreet!"

Now.

Apparently last week they had to call the paramedics because someone had pulled the alarm cord in the disabled loo.

They had to go and send a guy staff member to go investigate and, at the risk of being totally indiscreet...

Basically - and I know you're not going to believe me but...

Basically a guy was having a bad time in the disabled loo because er, he had the handle end of a plastic toilet plunger stuck up his ass.

I am told that he was panicking and says he slipped and fell onto it.

Apparently no-one really knows for sure how it ended up there, all we know was that a staff member found a rather stressed out guy in the disabled loo with a toilet plunger stuck up his bottom.

They had to wheel him out on the stretcher, lying on his stomach with a blanket covering.

I don't know if this story is "unique" to every gym in the world but that's what I was told.

And as you know, I only deal in the facts!

21:34
I realise that there's nothing much else to touch that. The story, not the plunger handle that is!

So I...

22:10
Am cooking some food for tomorrow...

22:46
Packing my bag...

23:11
...And going to bed.

Clog ya laterz! x

5 comments:

Dirk Muir said...

I really enjoy these blogs - I'm not the only person working too much and having a regular life (but you make it interesting). I'm sorry to see you thought yesterday's should no longer be up. It was one of your better ones actually.

Bobby Cox said...

Dirk: A thousand thanks x
Yeah so sometimes you read stuff that you wrote and you go "ohmygod, what a total bloody whinge-bag..." but whatever. Put it out there and let people make up their own minds...

Monty said...

There always seems to be plenty of men who "slip" onto a toilet brush handle/dish washing brush/other relevant cleaning equipment quite accidentally - hmmm, if I was a cynic, I might be suspicious! :-)

Nine said...

Whilst I like the idea of "I've paid my gym membership so I deserve to take these weights home", what about "I've paid membership, I deserve a hot bod"... and take one of those home instead. Much more fun way to burn calories :-)

LJ said...

I wish I could afford a gym membership then i'd get me some decent dumbells :P


peeps like that just make me laugh so much.