Being Pepys (sort of)

I guess in the spirit of the great man himself (Sammy Pepys) I'd better actually report something from the news. I'm not a Royalist so it grieves me to waste some of my brain power to do this but (sigh) here goes. Prince William got engaged to Kate Middleton (is that her name? Hang on, let me check.......yes it is). She's pretty and got good teeth. It's probably good to get some new genes into the Royal pool. Hopefully the premature baldness gene will start to phase itself out over the coming generations. As for the ring - Diana's ring, well, I wouldn't want that fucker! It was given to the bloke's beloved mother by a man who never loved her and just saw her as a brood mare to give him an heir and a spare. Remember that engagement interview where he wouldn't say he loved the poor cow? "What is love any way?" or something, that was his answer. I'd have told him to fuck right off there and then. At least the new two look like they at least like each other. I might feel more benevolent if the rumour that we'll all get a day off work for the wedding is true. Wa-hoo, Royal Wedding (said the person considering being a Royalist for the day or, working day. Royalist until 4.30pm).

Enough about the Royals. I've done my diarist's duty.

Oh yeah, I might have mentioned before that people are having difficulties registering to follow this diary. I've also discovered that it's nigh on impossible to leave a comment at the bottom of each entry. Dunno if you have to be a follower or if I need to change a setting somewhere but I'll have a look. I welcome all comments so long as you aren't offering to kill me or sell me a fucking handbag.

So, what else? It broke my heart but I went back to the gym today. Stayed until I did 500 calories but was particularly pissed off 'cause there were CHILDREN in the gym and their voices go through me. Oh yeah, and they were all over the machines I wanted to go on. Who let kids in fer chrissake? I'll tell you what else broke my heart today. SOUP. I stupidly took soup with me to work for lunch. When lunch time came around I wept real tears of grief. Who fucking wants soup for lunch? I ventured out in search of more interesting food and discovered that the guy I thought looked a bit like former Dr Who, David Tenant and therefore was forced to fancy (despite his career of standing on a corner with a sign pointing to McDonalds whilst simultaneously handing out leaflets), actually doesn't. He looks more like a goblin. With a hood on he's hot, without one he's frightening. That upset me too, gonna have to find someone else to have a daily crush on now. Oh the life of a single, barren spinster eh?

Plaything of The Fates (again)

Y'know those times we all dread? The times we (well, not me 'cause I'm a laydeeee - cough) allow an unguarded fart to fall from our arses. They always seem to rip out in a satisfying manner only for you to realise you aren't alone! That recently happened to a rellie of mine (you know who you are!) I had a similar but 'un-guilty' experience which is, in fact, just as bad.

Right, I was at the gym and had worked hard so was a bit on the sweaty side. Being a fucking short-arse I had to get on my tippie-toes to get on the exercise bike (even though I'd lowered the saddle to dwarf height) and well, I sort of dragged my arse across the seat and, to my mortification, it made a squeaky sort of loud fart sound! It wasn't a fart but by fuck it sure sounded like one and there were people there - REAL people who I don't know. No one moved (other than to continue exercising) or looked my way but my reaction was as if I really had let out a gigantic fart and no matter how much I squidged around on the seat I couldn't reproduce that sound in order to prove my innocence. I looked at myself in the giant mirror and could see the fart-guilt written all over my face. I wondered how people would react if I jumped down from the bike, stood at the front and explained to everyone that I wasn't guilty of a fart crime but then people might not have heard me after all and then they might believe I WAS guilty of the fart. What a dilemma. I just continued pedaling in the sure knowledge that every time those people came to the gym and saw me they'd associate me with farts and there's nothing I could do about it.

Other than that, I had a couple of food related accidents. We ordered a lovely pizza and I was attempting to add a little salt (which some people find weird). The salt was still in the container it came in and had become a little damp. All I did was smack the thing a bit hard but the lid came off and the entire pot of salt landed on my frickin' dinner! I did try to brush it off and carry on eating but it was so horrible I could feel a salt related Stroke coming on so had to throw it away. Sigh. The next day I put a plastic pot of pumpkin soup in my bag and rushed off to work. Fuck (I'm rather sweary again aren't I?) knows how I did it but the plastic container split and I ended up with a bag full of mushed pumpkin. It looked as if I'd vomited into the thing. I have done that before (only it was purple from over-drinking pernod and black. Jesus Christ, what had I been thinking?) I wonder if I can post photos to this thing...

I wonder if Samuel Pepys ever diarised his own humiliations or discussed farting. I'll tell you something else that arsehole Pepys never did - took photos of dirty toilets! Did they have cameras in those days? Well, ok then, did that arsehole Pepys ever sketch a dirty toilet and then paint it in oils? Did they have toilets in those days? I'm probably getting confused with Black Adder and the woman who preferred to 'crap out of the window'. Blimey, do you think Pepys crapped out of a window? Nah, he'd have a poe. Any way, I am slowly collecting pictures of dreadfully unloved toilets. You may wonder why. So do I.

PS. I don't know why Pepys suddenly became an arsehole in this diary. He was probably a totally ok bloke (despite being rich and powerful).