:big p7:

no no no no no

monday psychobabble

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is it wrong that the final line of today’s Scary-Go-Round actually appeals? Living on Special Brew in some kind of burrow. Awesome.

Today was a shit health day. As nigh-on-thirty blokes with the fitness profile of a 49-year-old beaver have. Fucking beavers. I’d like to pretend I have a heart condition, but I don’t. What I have is Fat Cunt Syndrome, which is different. In that it’s my fault. In any case, Friday night I ran out of blood pressure tablets, and I didn’t have a repeat script. I went to the doctor this morning to sort out a new one. You know the kind of thing. In, “Hi Doc, new script please” “Hi Hi, there you go” “Tra then” “Tra”, out.

Did I fuck.

“Alright, we’ll just check your BP and weight, and when did you last have a blood test?”

Fat (102.5kg. Mother. Fucker.) BP up (130/85 or summink)

Let’s check the blood test results from last time. Oh, look. Your liver’s all fucked up, Mr P7. I know this, sez I, I have turns yellow and looks like a condom disease.

No, sez he. These would indicate motherfucking alphabet death syndrome. Let’s do some more tests.

Fuck. Sez. Me.

I’d like to pretend I’m doing everything right, but I’m not. I drink. I take drugs. I smoke socially. Sorry, mum. But I do have a plan for this year. Watch me have a fucking plan. This is quoted from my Google Notebook

Reasonsfor exercise:

Get fucking unfat.Lose at least 15 kg. More, you fat bastard.
Get fucking well. Bring down BP to the levels normally associated with a stressed human, not a nuclear-assisted heart-bomb.
Look fucking good, you scrotum-faced knobwad.

Which I think is excellent motivation.

Also, I am now riding The Yawning Chasm of Instant Death to work, and ultimately to uni.
The Yawning Chasm of Instant Death
What with all the pain and the danger, it’s pretty fucken good for me.

I just want to be fucking healthy. Health and fucking wellness. Hear?

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Written by prismatic7

January 21, 2008 at 8:56 pm

Posted in Moody Cunt

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