Whupass. Can of. Opened.

I'm feeling a bit weary at the moment. Well, that's the polite way of putting it that preserves a bit of my dignity. 'Sore' is the other way.

I went to Badminton on Friday evening (just because I couldn't face another Friday post-work trip to the cinema after the train-wreck that was Shrek the Turd), and was kind of expecting a reasonably nice, somewhat sedate evening of genteel play and witty banter. But no, because in my absence of about six weeks the others only went and assimilated another club, and now we've got shitloads of new people whose weaknesses I don't know. After a little "humphing" and rolling of eyes (in a decidedly emo-esque fashion) I played a match and soundly whupped the opposing team. This might not be so bad, I thought. But then:

Oh sweet lord of all that is good and honest - we appear to have been infiltrated by two freaking pros! A father and son tag-team, no less. I knew we were in trouble when they started assuming scary looking pre-arranged postures as they prepared to receive serve (it was like something out of Karate Kid), and then literally smashed *every* shot while I smacked myself in the leg with my racquet (I have a scab to prove it) and made various witty comments; at least they couldn't fight back on that front – ha, losers!

As the evening wore on I did start to figure out their strengths and weaknesses, which bodes well for this Friday (crazy foo' that I am, I promised to go again), and I almost whacked the shuttle into the son's head, so that was a well-aimed bonus that sadly didn't win me the game.

Saturday, then, I felt *really* worn out, but in that nice way where you feel like you've done some exercise but it kind of hurts a bit when you, well, try to move in any way, shape, or form. That being the case, you'd think I would've learnt my lesson. Sadly not.

Sunday afternoon I decided to go out for a bike ride. A usual bike ride for me takes about an hour and a half. I went out for well over two hours. Lord almighty I felt it when I got home; seriously, I went all radio-controlled and zombie-like. I got a text from Yaz about five minutes after I got back that said something like "hey how's your weekend?" and my reply was something like "yeah, blue." I was completely out of it. And to make matters worse, I had a sneezing fit as I was getting in the shower and I was all "Ow! my aching abs!"

I'm still feeling it a bit now, but I'm totally going out for a run in a while.

Fool!

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I saw something amazing at lunchtime. It was a family of chavs. Well, I say family - it was actually just the male members; a shaven-headed middle-aged bloke, a shaven-headed teenager, and a shaven-headed little kid. They were like chav versions of those Russian dolls - and I don't mean Communist Barbie and Perestroika Ken - y'know, those ones that go inside each other - Matryoshka dolls! I would've asked if I could've taken a photo, but chances are they would've kneed me in the groin and taken my phone.