Wow. I FINALLY got round to getting some photos done for a photo driver's licence today. I've been meaning to do it for ages, but y'know how other things are always more important; like watching that Boston Legal DVD boxset, and making shampoo mohawks in the shower.
Anyway, so spur of the moment, I remembered to actually do them today. And even without making an effort (I didn't even put a tie on!), I think you'll agree that the results are nothing short of stunning.
In fact, I've had to apply a special photoshop filter to rein back on my inherent smouldering intensity so your puny human brains can actually comprehend the following pictures.
I reckon I could be caught driving 100mph over the limit with an old granny clinging to the bonnet, and a family pet wrapped around a tyre and still get off scott-free with one flash of one of these babies on my license.
Sweatband hates me. As preparation for the upcoming Hampton Court 10k, we decided to go to the running club that organised our last 10k. "Six-thirty for seven!" she excitedly told me. So, after an awesome day's shopping, I rushed home, jumped into my running gear, hopped back into the Sparky mobile, and legged it over to Richmond (IN THE BLOODY RUSH HOUR, NO LESS!). I got there at 18:34 to find the clubhouse empty except for an old man with an extraordinarily thin, some would say two-dimensional, face and a beguiling turkey neck. "Oh, they went about six minutes ago," said the 2-D man. "They had a new girl with them. She was very nice." "Humph!" I replied, briefly loosing sight of the 2-D man as he turned around. I subsequently got back in the Sparky mobile, and drove home (IN THE BLOODY RUSH HOUR, NO LESS!).
All dressed up and nowhere to go, when I got home I decided to do my familiar route. I wanted to do a run anyway, as my knee was playing up a bit yesterday (long story short: I walked into a chair at work about five years ago. We'd employed this - I'll be brutally honest - divvy bitch to do menial editorial work, and I'm convinced she thought she'd be promoted if she got me out of the way. Thus, I went to talk to someone, and she appeared to place her chair RIGHT BY ME so as I turned to walk away I smashed into it; I've had niggles with it ever since. On the plus side, we fired her), and I wanted to try running with a knee support.
I'll be honest, it was swings and roundabout; on the plus side the knee was great. On the downside, it appears to have squeezed the problem down to my ankle (which I also have problems with - remind me to tell you the infamous Box Hill sledge story at some point), and the sodding thing clicked all the way. I thought briefly about putting on an ankle support for my next run, but I figure either a) I'll end up a bit like the Michelin man and barely able to move my right leg, or b) my toes will explode.
No, I think the answer might be to explore the possibility of having robo-legs installed.
Oh, and on the plus side, Sweatband is going to buy me a pizza to apologise for standing me up. Although she phoned to tell me this just as I was getting in the shower, and promptly hung up just as I picked the phone up having run naked and dripping water into the bedroom to get it.
Anyway, I hope the pizza will turn up soon - I'm a little bit peckish.