What day is it?!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWwe do like to be beside the seaside.

Hi! So, yeah, didn’t post anything yesterday.  Not going to lie, it was a down day.  By down I mean lie the fuck down, curl up into a ball and hide.  Now, you may have picked up that I’m not quite right in the head, and you’d be correct, but you’d be more correcter that ya thank.

I have, for many years, been trying to kick depression in the nuts.  Not “boo-hoo” depression, I mean “taking an interest in the quick way down from a tall building” depression. As I’ve spoken about before, food is a coping mechanism.  I fully understand the science behind it; the release of endorphins and so on, but it also becomes a crutch, an addiction.  I’m starting to think crack would be healthier and easier to give up.   

So, yesterday my little bastard of a depression monster came out to play.  Unable to see positives I hated everything, hated not being able to eat, hated being at work, argued with the wife and resented the rest of the human race (soz) so the prospect of trying to make other people smile really didn’t appeal.  Now I’m not saying I’m changing the subject of this blog into Bathing with Electrical Appliances, but when that fucker of a monster arrives, there’s not much you can do but entertain him – X-Files seemed to do it… 90’s Gillian Anderson, yes please!

I cheated though – I admit it – I needed a hit, a shot of that white powdery demon.  Two Dairy Milk Praline chocolates that the wife doesn’t like from a box of Milk Tray.  That’s what I did.  I’m not ashamed. I’m not sorry.  Remember, I was a chef and, if I want to use my powers for bad, I can knock out 2 dozen muffins of any flavour before dickhead Coach Steve had got his headset on. I try and use my powers for good though and those two little cubes of pure sex were just enough to pacify the monster for the evening.

Anyway, back to it… Positive… Energy… YEAAAAAAAAHHHHH… fuck off, it’s me remember!? So the Cult of Shit Biscuit were back today with their circuit training.  For a femtosecond I thought it was getting easier.  Then my back reminded me that it’s not.  I’ve had a really bad back for two days now so going into this today was not a gleeful prospect.  I do however, to Coach Thundercunts credit, feel looser for it.  I think the stretches at the end helped. I still hate the man with every fibre of my being, but he won’t beat me… smarmy arse bugle!

Food is still ok, not enough of it, but still ok.  Have found another way to fuck up though.  If you’re gonna cock up, cock up properly. Do not leave the really nice protein balls for your evening snack.  And don’t have your evening snack 90 minutes before bed.  I did this the other night and was still wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide awake 4 hours later trying to count the atoms in the ceiling light and wondering what the number purple tastes like.

On the subject of food, I’m going to let you in on a little exploration I’ve undertaken.  With the exception of Satan’s Dandruff (Sucralose)  I don’t have any food allergies.  I therefore don’t go into the Free From isle of the supermarket.  I was bumbling around Tesco, however, and found that the Nakd, Pulsin (ewww) and various other items from the Snack heading can be found here, and in a MUCH wider array of flavours.  Now, as long as you’re not a twat and you check the calories, fat, protein and so on, are fairly similar, it should be possible to introduce some much needed variety into this.

This does beg the question as to what I’m gaining by paying X to Muscle Foods when I could spend Y where every little helps and trade dick-for-brains for Clubcard points.  On a slightly more serious note (?), it shows that in 10 ½ weeks, I can do this without relying on mail order food.

I am physically weak at the moment…. I feel genuinely beaten… I mean I don’t think I could’ve outrun you, dear viewer, if we were being chased by a lion, even when in my prime, but I feel like toddlers could probably kick my ass right now.  Interestingly, however, sleep is as elusive as ever. Fuck knows what’s going on there.  I will swear to the power of good ol’ hot milk and nutmeg (sugars, fats and a mild hallucinogen for bed, whoop)  but as milk is a secretion of Diablo himself, it is a no-no – and before you fucking start, if it doesn’t go “Moo” it can’t give milk.  You ever see a fucking almond with udders?! Ya mad bastard!

Operation Black Booger – The microwave, boiling water free conference I’m going to on Thursday, is still on.  Have grabbed some Weetabix drinks to test as a substitute for the porridge and I plan on making sure I have good snacks with me on the day. Beyond that, I’m at the mercy sheer abundance of bad food between Hammersmith and Marylebone, racked up against my pitiful willpower. There’d better be coffee or people are going to die. If you’re in the area and you see a short fat guy with a sign saying “Will Hug For Food”, just toss me a Mars bar and we’ll say no more about it.

Anyway, I need to rest my back – I’m still too heavy to injure myself properly as it would take an embarrassing number of paramedics to carry me to the big yellow fun bus.

Edit: Note – The first three paragraphs of this are not a plea for help, they’re not a sob story or me seeking attention.  It is, as always, a dump of my brain into the anonymity of the internet. My “situation” is under control at the moment and has been for a couple of years now. While there are dark days, it’s not a relapse or anything to cause concern to those that know me.   If those sentences resonate with you however, and you have not previously sought help, fucking do so.  Ok, that’s more than enough being serious now… Tittysprinkles!