Oh crap! Baby Boet (he of the vuvuzela funnel and mystery black eye fame) informed me over the course of the weekend that he’s decided to return to Snor City in the new year. Of course he needs a place to stay, and apparently the granny cottage / flat at my place will do just fine. Good to know I’m now a Slumdog nowhere-near-Millionaire.
“Extra rent money FTW!” I hear you say. While that’s true, one has to wonder if the price is not too high. You see, I’m a slight podgy junk food muncher with a bit of a wheeze and the social life of a tombstone. He, on the other hand, is all:
“oh look, I’m found a new kind of raw vegetable that’s extra healthy to gnaw on in place of dinner. Death to cheeseburgers and all that!”
My larder is currently filled with delicious snack foods, chips, sweets and the occasional toffee apple for when I’m feeling especially healthy. I get the feeling that all that oh-so-sweet goodness is going to get binned in favour of ProVita, trail mix and vitamin supplement bullshit. Which means I’m gonna get lots of attitude as I wolf down my second doughnut of the day and be guilted into being healthier and noshing on cardboard-like veggies. The kinda stuff that would’ve made Steve Jobs and his fruitarianism proud. I can hear/feel my generously-proportioned belly rumbling for a fry up already, and it’s still only T-minus two months till his arrival!
But of course it won’t end there. In between laughing at me gagging on some chunky clumps of protein shake (no, nothing like Wimpy’s oh so good double thick chocolate shake), he’ll also apparently find time for a quick jog to Bloemfontein and back.
“oh look, I found some form of exercise even more strenuous than a bad day at Bear Gryll’s office. And guess who gets to tag along?”
You guessed it: ME! At least, it’ll feel like it’s to Bloem and back, as APPARENTLY I’m also going along. Oh good. I can’t wait to pavement pound myself into a lean mean fighting machine, assuming someone with the look and feel of playdough could ever BE lean. Granted it’s probably for the best. I could inevitably do with a bit of a jog. The pile of shirts in my cupboard that no longer fit vs the pile (or rather, five individual items) that does fit, is not exactly working in my favour. Just one problem with such things – I’m generally rather lazy. As far as I’m concerned, reaching for the television remote control qualifies as a good day at the gym. Just ask my Virgin Active membership card… if you can find it. Haven’t seen that thing in ages!
And then there’s the minor issue of liquid refreshment…
“oh look, it’s Monday! Time for a tequila!”
No, devil-child, it’s 8am and I have to go to work. Save it for later.
This point is however both positive and negative, as explained below:
Positive: As mentioned at the start of this post, my social life is not exactly something for the society pages in the local tabloids. No sirree, I’ve been known to spend a LOT of time slothing on the couch at home and barely ever heading out for a “soirée”. Being forced to head out to the dark dingy pubs of Pretoria might actually be a good thing. After a spot of practice, no longer will I be that socially awkward guy skulking in the shadows of a club staring longingly, and somewhat creepily, at the finer female specimens on the dance floor. Now I’ll be front and centre, staring just as creepily, but with less skulking in the shadows because I’m a hermit and crowds are scary.
Negative: Due to the above, I’m kinda out of training when it’s comes to rocking it like a boss. Which means I’ll be in a perpetual state of hangover, whining about a pounding head and how all new tenant’s leases have been cancelled with immediate effect! I can hear my spoiled and lazy liver crying already.
Oh well, time to man up and get a life. And some Essentiale. And perhaps a bonus-sized tub of Panado. And Rehidrat. Lots and lots of Rehidrat.
Of course all of the whining above can only be a good thing for this blog, as I’ll have lots and lots of rowdy war stories to regale you lot with next year. Stories of pain from exercise; stories of pain from eating salad-type crap; stories of pain from excessive tequila consumption.
Watch this space for ‘Tales from the Trenches” – Coming 2013.