Monday, June 27, 2005
Never again!Time's a bit funny in the way it sugarcoats some memories.
Nights of drunken stupidity gain a slightly-out-of-focus, soft, warm beery fug. Beer Goggle Vision is retroactively applied to all the mangy little trolls you were leering at. Puking your guts out in a piss-soaked alley becomes just another harmless "boys will be boys" episode.
The hangover the next day is something to shake your head over and sigh.
And then nights like this past Saturday come around and violently jar everything back into painful, nauseating focus.
Urgh.
I'm never drinking again.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
MoonshineNow that's a full moon.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Fat people make me feel goodAs anyone who knows me will tell you, I’ve always been a bit porky about the middle. Mrs Gecko is, by all accounts, sick and tired of hearing me bleat on about this fact. The truth is, I do obsess about it. I‘ve tried lots of sometimes crackpot schemes to shift the blubber, but it always came back.
Anyway, it’s been going on like that for ages, and as anyone who podgy will testify, fat is insidious. It creeps up on you, layering you with more and more lard in a gentle, almost loving way.
Until that day you find your old favourite, long lost t-shirt and enthusiastically try put it on.
To discover that the bottom half doesn’t reach your belt anymore, leaving you looking like one the wobbly Jordan wannabes that totter around Bromley on a Friday night (you know, the young girls who bare their midriffs, blissfully unaware that the sight of their lumpy fat rolls is, in actual fact, not at all sexy).
My new years resolution for 2005 (yes, I still make those, and I’ve kept the last 3), which we actually started in November 2004, was to shift the fat.
To date I’ve jettisoned 13 kg’s of potential soap. That’s about 24 lbs for you old fashioned types.
Having said that, the last couple of months have been tough; the diet came off the rails and I’m struggling to get back on, but I think I’m winning. I’ve not gained any back, but I haven’t lost any since April—I have a few good days, and then find myself accidentally stuffing my face with Jaffa cakes.
I was thinking about this strange duality while I was having my dessert last night. As I slurped down the last mouthful of creamy, chocolatey yumminess I decided that this was a good point to draw a line under the sorry attempt at weight loss that has marked the last 3 months. A high note to end on.
I started this morning with a spring in my step (possibly due to the Rocket Fuel) and a reborn sense of purpose.
Anyway, on my way from the train station I have to walk past a Burger King, and there, as if sent by the god of motivation (the same chap who inspired Eye of the Tiger), sat a couple of fatties in all their belt-bursting glory.
Not just chubby, but fat. Obese. Big as in I-have-my-own-postcode-big.
And what were they doing? Mrs Fatsack was chatting to someone on her cellphone whilst daintily nibbling on a fistful of fries, while Mr Fatsack was people watching, with a coke in one meaty paw and a cheeseburger in the other.
And you know what? It made me feel good. Superior. Uplifted. And more determined than ever to get rid of my spare tyre- I need to lose another 10kg’s to get to my goal weight.
During lunch I’m going to pop down to the local supermarket and pack out 10x 1kg tubs of butter and have a good, long look at my enemy.
I don’t feel pity for fatties- at the end of the day the only hand lifting those fries to your face is your own. The only one making you sit there and watch Oprah is you. The only one making excuses is you.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
A Good DayWell, it's nearing the end of Saturday, and I'm a happy man.
The weathermen got it right. Today was a proper summer's day- indigo skies, a blazing sun, a light breeze just to keep it from being that little bit too hot. And for the first time in ages, we had nothing to do, and the whole day to do it in. Absofuckinglutely superb.
Spilled out of bed around 10, splashed on a pair of shorts & a t-shirt, had some brekkie at a leisurely pace. Took the Little Dog for a walk, he got to chase one of the useless fluffy lap dog types around the park while it's elderly owner looked on in a bemused fashion and tried to make small talk with the grinning idiot who had unleashed the little white terror.
Popped down to the shops, grabbed some bits for the bbq... fired it up when we got home. Mrs Gecko handed me a well deserved ice cold cider (I make a good fire, ok?) and that sort of set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.
What a cracking day.. no rush to do anything. I drank a not inconsequential amount of beer & cider, got some sun and just chilled. Watched S.W.A.T.. now I'm going to have a cool bath and hit the sack.
Days like this are far too rare.
I used to hate them when I was a kid; I was wanted to cram as much as I could into every minute. I cold never understand why, when we had a family outing to the Tokai forest the oldies always just sat around on folding deckchairs and sighed a lot- instead of wanting to go exploring and catching frogs and feeding horses and and and .....
Now I understand.
Friday, June 17, 2005
T G I friggin FWhahey! Friday at last.
As an added bonus, the weather almost bears some resemblance to what the weathermen predicted. Almost.
Still, as long as the rain holds off and the temperature is in line with the 28C predicted for tomorrow I'll be dusting off the gazebo and rolling out the BBQ tomorrow. mmmmMMMmm.
Yup, nothing like the sizzle & smell of grilling meat to say "SUMMER".
Or maybe even a nice slow cooked potjie. Oh man, yeah!
What amazes me is this: here in the UK good meat is affordable; my local butcher sells prime steak in £5 packets, each enough for 2 people (unless they're yanks); you can get enough chicken pieces for £6 or so to make your own Frankenchicken (although the head might be a problem).
So why, o why, when I invite natives of this cheery little island over for a BBQ, do they insist on bringing Tesco "beef"* burger patties for me to grill? ???
I've established my own little house rule for BBQ's involving these so called meat products- I accidentally drop them through the grill into the coals, or onto the floor where a little white Jack Russell shaped blur devours them before they've finished bouncing off the cement.
* They're alledgedly made from beef but mostly they're minced up ears, lips and aresholes mixed with breadcrumbs and some lard to make it all stick together.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Buckets of bileI had an epiphany this morning.
I've realised that sometime between my memories of the good times and today I've travelled a long way down the road to officially becoming a grumpy old fart. Nad I can't pinpont when it started happening.
I used to be pretty damned laid back and took everything in my stride, and accepted people for who they were. These days I fantasize about being able to metamorphosize my right arm into a machine gun whenever I'm trapped in a train carriage with:
a) a crying baby b) chavs/yobs c) foreign students d) all of the above.
A good example is that even as I'm writing this I'm thinking of adding "and who can really blame me?"
What brought all this on was sitting on said train on my way into work this morning thinking about what to I can babble on about here today. And every topic I was mulling over involved me ranting about the things that piss me off- and bugger me, but it's a long list.
Maybe I should change the title from Fat Gecko to Grinch for President.
So, I've resolved to try to limit the amount of bile I spew across my posts from here on in. No, really. Honest.
:o/
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
ooh I'm freezing ooh ooh oohI have nothing against women and am a supporter of all that equal rights stuff, but I thought women were mammals and thereby warm blooded, as in able to generate body heat.
Its obviously not the case for specimens born in the UK. Its a pleasantly warm day outside (around 20 C), blue skies etc etc. But yet the entire day my female colleagues have been fretting and moaning about the fact that I have my desk fan on and how cold it is and how they're freezing.
Its a fan ferchrissake, not a fridge. All the guys in the office are wearing shortsleeved shirts and are happily getting on with their work; all the women are rubbing their arms and tut-tutting about the inconsiderate brutes who have dared to either a) crack a window open or b) switch a fan on.
If you're cold you have arrange of options available to you to make your life more comfortable:
a) Put your jacket/ sweater on.
b) Get off your ass and go make me some tea. Movement generates heat, plus you get to hug the kettle.
c) This one's tricky- in the morning, if you think the ambient temperature for the day is going to be less than the 40 C you require in order to not feel cold, wear something more substanstial than a flimsy skirt, breezy blouse and useless sandals (that you no doubt paid some ridiculous sum of money for).
d) Eat something besides lettuce. Put some meat on your bones.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Lookit them bunnies Cleitus!Them thar bunnies' sure are funny pa. hyuk hyuk
Mondays.
One moment you're happily settled into the well-worn recesses of the couch watching a movie, sipping overly strong coffee and chewing popcorn, enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Then it hits you.
Tomorrows Monday.
Suddenly the restful evening you were looking forward to (have supper, walk the dog, water the garden, have a whisky, watch CSI, have a whisky etc) gets invaded by thoughts of must iron a shirt & pants, Oh my God I forgot to send that fax to Mr Smith before I left on Friday, I wonder if Mr Bloggs has emailed his solicitors details and so on and so on.
*BANG* your Sunday is ruined, and Monday is now actually a day and a half long, since you're going to spend the remainder of what was once Sunday worrying about crap.
Mondays are a cancer, eating our weekends. It's no wonder we're all so stressed- we really only get one day off a week.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
What have I done?Ah fuck it.
How did I find myself messing around with this crap at this time on a Sunday night..? I was supposed to be playing medal of goddamn honour, not trying to create some bloggy thing.
This is like waking up naked next to someone you don't recognise in the morning- what the fuck should you say? "Hello? My name's Bob, sorry I came in your eye last night. Whats your name by the way?"
Chances are you'll wind up talking shit, like I am now.
Well.
I reckon it'll take me
a) a few drinks
b) practice or
c) both of the above
before I get the hang of this.
So bear with me while i find my feet.
Or sod off.
I mean, I'm not doing this for money so I really don't care if your life hasn't been changed for the better by reading this and you've decided to go try find pictures of tits on Google. Go away. No one invited you anyway.
I can see this is going to be fun.
wHy caN'T I sLeEp..?
Yup, still awake.
Was just thinking how much I'm looking forward to seeing Veg again.
Ah, I suppose I need to backtrack a bit. "Veg" is the nickname for a guy I met when I was doing my national service back in S. Africa. We worked in the HQ, doing all the little things that keep the place running-- stealing food from the kitchen, harassing the Lt., tanning, drinking, smoking etc etc. Thing is, we were posted on the border of Swaziland, a tiny backwater called Golela- not exactly Vietnam central, you know? The most exciting thing that ever happened was having our sniffer dogs kennel blow away when some fat-arsed general decided it would be good for morale to visit us in a goddamned Puma helicopter. The thing's a monster! But NoooOOoo he has to try land it on this tiny strip of fuckall next to our tents. It took us weeks to find all the staff that had been drying on the washlines.
Anyway, we spent the better portion of a year there, baking in the heat and pitting scorpions and spiders against each other in a makeshift stadium (a.k.a box). After we klaared out and went back to civvie street we each went our separate ways.. we did try stay in touch but eventually drifted into our own lives.
That was close on 14 years ago.
Sometime back I did put a general message on the schoolfriends website to see if anyone knew what had happened to him... this week past I got an email from the fucker- his wife had seen his name on the message board and told him about it! Babe, I owe you many drinks for that!!!
It turns out he's moved here (UK) as well and is living in the grim, dark recesses of the North.. we're going to meet up within the month for one helluva craic.
and now I really must try get some sleep..
Hey..
Got a light?
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