High

Whuppah! Yes, it’s me - did you think I’d gone somewhere? Did anyone care? Whatever. So it’s been almost a week since I last blogged, which seems like a ridiculously long time and yes, I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about it; while I may very well be adhering to the Shatner command of being better, obviously that hasn’t extended to blogging. And now I’ve finally gotten round to writing something blogger appears to have gone a bit wonky and fallen over, so I’m having to tap this out in Pages on mah Mac, which is admittedly a lovely word processor, but a bit strange when you’re used to the usual blogger window.

Let’s press on regardless, though. What troopers we are.

Well, the days since my last post have been dominated by two extremes - crazily enthusiastic bouts of exercise and couch-potato-esque Xbox marathons. The latter have seen me complete the awesome space epic Mass Effect (though I’ve started it again because apparently although I completed it I did so without opening up over half the game), and being freaked out by the incredibly atmospheric Bioshock, which I refuse to play at night because it scares the tits off me. The exercise has been good because I seem to be imbued by some kind of mystical new year energy where I actually want to go out for a run rather than feel like I should. How long it’ll last is anyone’s guess.

One benefit of this hardcore exercise thing is that I’m feeling super confident in my running abilities right now, which is cool because I’m due to meet up with Sweatband for a run soon. Sweatband and I haven’t done a run in ages, y’see, and the last time we did I totally whupped her on the run up Richmond Hill; I think it kind of surprised her, and I’m hoping to repeat that because there’s nothing I like more than to boost my own ego by beating someone who ran the London Marathon last year. All being well, I might try pushing this a little further, not only by laughing and pointing at her as she staggers along behind me, but by employing certain underhanded tactics; I don’t think she’s done a run since before Christmas, so if I’m feeling particularly evil I could look at her and say something like “well *someone* had a good Christmas,” then puff my cheeks out and cross my eyes.

On the other hand…

I think I’m coming down with something. It’s been bang on a year since I was ill last with full-on man flu, and over Christmas damn-well everyone I know has come down with something. I was hoping to escape it, but I detected the first inkling of a tickle in the throat around midday today, and now my nose is leaking, which runs the risk of making me look particularly gross because I’m a bit beardy at the mo’ and a snot-infused ‘tache could be a disaster of epic proportions. I better be careful not to turn my head quickly, either; I wouldn’t want to unleash a huge snotty-strand in a Spider-Man web-slinging-stylee. We’ll see how this pans out, but I think I’ve got it covered either way; I took immediate action to try to head it off at the pass by downing an entire massive bottle of Lucozade in the office, which might help nip it in the bud, but if I’m really ill I’ll just take the day off work tomorrow and watch the entire South Park Season Five boxset I got for Christmas - it’s the one where Cartman accuses Kyle of having sand in his vagina - LOL!

Actually, I just want to touch on the whole Lucozade thing. It’s long been established in my family that if you’re feeling as rough as a badger’s arse you just drink Lucozade and orange juice (alternately, not at the same time, weirdo). The Lucozade has the twin effect of making you want to wee a lot, but also puts you on a massive sugar high, so you literally forget you’re ill. The whole weeing thing is a bit odd, though, because I noticed today while reading the ingredients that Lucozade is pumped full of what I can only assume is a naturally-occuring colouring given that it’s called ‘sunset orange.’ So I’ve ingested two litres of sunset orange and pure sugar, yet my pee is as clear as a mountain stream. How the hell did that happen? I bet it’s all backed up in my gut; my bladder’s probably glowing flourescent orange or something. I could probably hit a solid radioactive high if someone waved a geiger counter in front of my groin. Either way, the real test will be tomorrow morning when I wake up. I hope I feel awesome, although chances are I could still be on a sugar high.