On discipline...

The new diet has started: 6 days a week, 6 meals per day of your RDA in everything but proportioned accordingly. My meals so far consist of:

Peanut butter sandwiches. Oh shit, that half of my RDA. lets halve it. Wait, if I cut one slice into small pieces does that work?

Drink: Milk. Milk is essential for healthy bones. No argument on this. I don't want to collapse from hunger and find myself in the Osteopathology clinic. Besides, liquids don't count.

Coffee: According to the calorie counter, coffee = 1 calorie. Hence, negligible.

Snack time! Oh wait, work.

(forget to eat snack)

I now proceed to eat twice that at lunch, since I skipped my snack. Options: Chicken nuggets, or fish fingers. Opt for fish fingers, or actually, goujons. After all, fish is brain food, imperative for my work.

Mid afternoon snack: no time.

Late afternoon snack: am in meeting.

Pre-dinner snack: BEER! per pint is equal to oh who the fuck cares, I've had a bad day.

Dinner: Fuck it, its technically winter. Besides, I walked up the stairs today so I deserve sustainance.

After dinner: I need a digestive to digest the food, break down the food for easy digestion. Now where's that bottle of single malt?

Rinse, and repeat.

Day 7? Eat what the fuck you want.

The start of apathetic middle-aged spread...

As I'm sat at my desk, eating fried rice for lunch, suddenly I catch the irony of the image as I'm flipping through a Men's Health magazine. Ever since I hit 30, I've been resolute in getting back into shape. The only thing is that my willpower has yet to catch up with me.

After a 3 month gym binge earlier this year before attending my parents wedding, I was struck with the realisation that my metabolism is slowing down, and my 23 year old assistant sitting next to me does nothing to help my effort in portion control, as he wolfs down his body weight in pasta, sausages and anything that if I glanced at, would immediately pile itself onto my hips.

However, now, I have a new resolve to go: This morning while bending over to put on my shoes, I actually wheezed a little. This has been alarming, and the secret hypochondriac in me has suddenly popped up, with silent-film images of myself dying in fairly graphic detail in a myriad of ways related to gluttony while on my way into work on the tram: Death by foie gras. The anxiety must have shown on my face because my secretary kindly offered me some Xanax that she was taking for her pre-flight nerves.

Also, an added incentive to going to the gym from today onwards, is the thought of the upcoming trip to Jordan and the Dead Sea. I'm hoping that I won't be mistaken for a dugong with the paunch, and be harpooned.

Friday Pop Tarts

This takes me back to Noirmoutier this year where OH and I spent a fabulous weekend with my sister and some friends, dodging German naturists and eating mussels baked in pine leaves and neverending buffet of langoustines.

Speaking of langoustines, I was watching a British programme the other day that was extolling the virtues of Scottish seafood. There was a segment in which the presenter was feeding langoustines to the locals, and the general consensus was that langoustines tasted 'like chicken, but a bit prawny'.

I still weep for British palates.


Stromae - "Alors on danse" Symphonique -Ce n'est pas un clip
envoyé par StromaeOfficiel. - Regardez la dernière sélection musicale.

Things I have discovered and are probably not related...

- Riding a tandem is easy if someone up front does all the work

- Salmon can leap really high, but when they hit obstacles it redefines the adjective 'stunned mullet'

- Vancouverites love their weed

- Salmon jerky is delicious

- Trails marked on maps are often 10 times shorter than you'd expect

- Giant redwoods are, well, giant

- Skants, however hideous, serve an occasional purpose

- Margaret Cho is on Dancing With The Stars, which would be an incentive to watch that programme

- When life gives you gin, have a party

- I have pretty fucking amazing friends