Last night myself and Laura decided to go on a bit of a Nazi-esque fitness regime to turn ourselves into two sleek running machines over the next few weeks. This of course includes a balanced diet blah blah yawn. All well and good, I hear you say. Well we were starting off this morning, and I woke up and had an apple and sat down at my laptop, feeling proud of myself.
Cut to 15 minutes later and I had eaten 2 cakes and 7 Reese's peanut butter cups. Fast forward another few hours and I had a kebab and a can of coke for lunch. In between these food-related activities I lay face down on the bed making whiney animal noises. After the kebab I played Zuma for 4 hours and then lay down and made some more animal noises.
Keeping in mind of course that I have emails to be sending and blogs and articles to be writing.
What the flip is going on eh? I simultaneously feel like running ten miles and sleeping for a week. I just don't know what's up with me at all at all.
Actually I do know what's up with me. I'm fed up! Fed up so I am! Fed up of this being broke lark! Sick to the back teeth of working me arse off and still not havin a pingin rua! Yer man Valentin outside the supermarket has more money than me! Eddie Hobbs my arse - the bastard never even emailed me back. How rude.
I know we are all in the same boat, but we are allowed to be pissed off about it. I'm feckin sick of calculatin me shoppin to the cent as I go around the supermarket and subsequently gettin a dose of SAS as yer wan is beepin through me shoppin at the till. I want to waltz in and throw a rake of shite in the basket and breeze up to the till, not a bother on me.
But you know what I really want? I want clothes! Clothes and shoes and underwear and ridiculously priced stockings and hair flowers and dickie bows. I want to go on me holidays and drink overpriced plonk and eat weeping tiger steak. I want BRAND NAME CEREAL. I'm talking Frosties, Special K and Weetabix instead of Sugar Flakes, Wellness Flakes and Wheat Bisks. Basically I just want to STOP WORRYING ABOUT MONEY.
I mean, I am a lady, I should be thinking about rainbows and puppy dogs and butterflies, not how much I can save versus how much I can spend. Having to think about money non feckin stop is tiring and it's really starting to wear me down.
Morale is low lads. Morale is fuckin low.
Hence the absence of real blog post. Doing that would take up valuable energy that could be used for eating shite.
That's if I could afford to eat shite.
But shur look, at the end of the day I suppose I should just take stock: I have two arms and two legs and I'm healthy and I have a lovely family and lovely friends. My Mammy always says "Your health is your wealth" and she is right.
I still want brand name cereal though.