I promised you that we would have no mention of the gym whatsoever and you know me. A promise I make is a promise I keep.
So anyway, last night at the gym I crossed a dangerous threshold.
Katie and I had been out all afternoon - we had both had the afternoon off so we decided to have lunch. Which for Katie and I means a bottle of wine.
Now these days I am very very light on fuel which means one glass of wine goes a very long way.
And yesterday the sun was out and we were sitting along the canal in Islington.
Anyway, since one glass of wine for you is about 9 for me, you can imagine what I was like having had three glasses...
We decided to call it quits at around 7-ish and I stumbled to the gym to get my togbag and leave.
But Chris saw me in the changeroom. And Chris said "c'mon - don't be a lazy fucker... let's work!"
Well, it was the first and the last time I am ever working out while drunk. It was the strangest feeling in the world.
I was paranoid that it was obvious that I was drunk which is why I kept checking to see if, for example, I was wearing shorts. I was.
And there's another weird thing that happens when you're drunk in the gym. When you're drunk you think you have special super-duper powers when in fact you have none.
I couldn't even manage one pull up and all the lads were having a pull up competition.
Liam was there and he said that he could smell me.
Going back to the gym tonight I had The Fear. What if I was drunk and had said something inappropriate to a hottie?!
So Liam was there tonight and assured that I was fine. Except I stank of booze. And was a little wobbly. And came last in the pull up competition.
Which is pretty amazing because Mani was also in the pull-up competition.
Mani is a rugby player who has a rugby player's build. (Ahem!)
FYI: Mani is also a raging homo who recently came out the closet and he's like 36 and the reason it took so long is because he's Indian and apparently in Indian culture the gays aren't the most accepted thing.
So while it was okay that I didn't make a fool of myself generally, I did come last in the pull-up competition which is very embarrassing.
On the way out tonight Brent stopped me to ask if I was sober. How the hell did he know that I was drunk!?
Brent said he'd just had a complaint from a member who said they were furious that they had to share the change-room with a fat guy who used the towel like a fan-belt to dry his arse.
So it's not just me who takes offence at the men who do that. Although I wouldn't complain, I would just stew like most people do.
Except of course if I were drunk. Then I probably would have stumbled over and told the grubby fucker that I thought what he was doing was sick.
Luckily it was tonight, not last night.
Although I was pissed thanks to two beautiful bottles of Lourensford Sauvignon Blanc, a wine estate about 13 minutes' drive from my parents house.
Ohmygod. I am in South Africa in 63 days. Fuck.
Saturday is Halloween and I've been trying out costumes and looks etc. You like what I'm trying to create here?
Don't disrespect the look, baby...