Weight: 89.2
So as of this morning, the number the scales shows me when I stand on them is the lowest it's been since I was a pimply faced, furry moustached high schooler. F*ckin' tops. Sometime soon it should slow down, but hopefully I can keep it moving in the correct direction.
Problem is, all I want to do tonight is get drunk, fist pump like a champion, and potentially take my pants off somewhere. The lads are having beers, soon to head to town and live it up, and here I am, writing this, eating my stir fry and patting the furry bastard cat. GREAT!
I suppose this way the chances of someone seeing my willy are lower, which is probably a benefit. But conversely, the number of people seeing my sweet dance moves is also reduced. A definate issue, not only for myself, but the general public.
Ahwell, it's only four weekends. Four. Long. Weekends. I need a hobby? Do people still do puzzles? Maybe I could train and become world Jenga champion? I just don't know. Atleast instead of feeling like a sweaty, spewy, disgusting mess, I'll feel like a boss related pimp skuxx in the morning. Yayuh.
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