This is now a new title for this blog

24 08 2008

EDIT: umm, don’t try any of the below if you really want to get f*t quickly. My search engine results show me some strange things people are looking for and getting directed here. So please don’t actually do anything I recommend, ok, thanks.
That’s now in bold so you can’t not notice my disclaimer.

Before I write this I’m pleased to announce that Starbucks has finally turned off the endless loop of head splitting nu-jazz that it usually plays and instead Van Morrison soothes my ears. Jackson’s dog loves Van Morrison, she’s such a class dog! Van Morrison and Johnny Cash calm her down and she particularly loves Cash’s ‘Daddy Sings Bass’ song – awesome!

How dull is it these days to decide if you are a pear, apple, boy-ish, curvy, upside down wine glass, classical vase? I’m talking body shape and I think putting these as identifying snippets on your Myspace page alongside religion and orientation might soon be a possibility. Oh right, you can already do that. Myspace, schmyspace.

Anyway, that’s boring. I have moved between all of these shapes over the years, except pear – I’ve never been a pear but I’ve been atheletic, curvy, boyish and apple (at my worst, after spending a year in Austria gorging on Quarktasche, schnapps and pasta, but at least for six months before that I was also atheletic, skiing down the mountains and all that). Now I don’t know what I am, but basically I don’t care. However…I will share my advice on getting F*T in just a few hours. If you want to bulk up, or rather swell up just visit Ikea! I experienced the weirdest sensation a couple of days ago when Jackson decided he needed to fix the hillbilly plastic bags on the bedroom window and pop down to Ikea for some curtains. The neighbours are looking at us a bit suspiciously and we figure it’s because they think we’ve brought some sort of trailer park trashy bedroom design to what is overtherwise a classy neighbourhood. 

Curtains were not to be found, so the hillbilly plastic bags are staying. My other motive for visiting Ikea though was to satisfy a craving for chips I’ve had recently. I’d feel a bit of a scummer just odering chips in a restaurant so I thought the anonymity and unjudging blue and yellow eyes of Ikea would do. Hmm chips! Chips that I laced with salt, only to be told post-salting by Jackson not to put any salt on as they were salty enough already, yup salty enought to draw all the water out of the North Sea and swamp Ikea back to flat-packed misery. Ok, well I like salty chips so I pushed on anyway. About 4/5ths into the chips I’d had enough, I shoved them away and then forgot to eat for another five hours, in which time I just swigged down some black coffee. Caffeine, salt and sugar kind of made me a feel a bit funny so it was time to eat proper.  So I got another craving – Thai food! I love Thai food: it’s nutrious, tasty, satisfies my tofu needs, the peanut sauce is great, it’s easily available round here and cheap enough. I forgot about the presence of that pesky Monosodiumglut-what’s it though. More salt! Great! It all went down my gullet. Until the overload of salt and MSG kicked in, so what do I do? Well surely the happy balance of Ying and Yang means I should counter salt with sugar, right? So I crack open the chocolate covered marzipan (potential suitors note: I only really like dark chocolate, ok? Although success there is limited, I sit in cafes most days and no one comes along to talk to me – A BOO HOO HOO. Although a guy strangely took a picture of me and the dog the other day on his mobile.). Down it goes. A delightful mix of salt and sugar, counter balancing each other. And then the weirdest thing happens – I swell up. Right there, lying on the sofa I suddenly don’t fit my dress anymore. I was BURSTING out, not just the uncomfortable feeling of over indulgement, I was bursting! Everything just got bigger. Feeling the cold evening set in I also decided to put some jeans on – couldn’t do them up. Not the button, not the belt – I just had to lounge around, bosoms and belly out, clothes undone in all my swollen up glory. So if you need a quick fix to bulk up – eat chips! The next day the swelling be gone but at least you had the fun of amazing your friends with your instant weight loss. 


I feel slightly ashamed though at my blatant revelling in food indulgement, I do burn a lot off though walking the dog and not having a kitchen means I can’t cook up many feasts these days, but mostly what I fancy goes in. I’ve just read two blog posts about the olympics, one about watching them and one, amazingly, from a friend who has decided to train for 2012 in Tae Kwon Do. I’m sure he can do it, he’s trained for years and he even once trained me! He’s that good he could even get me to stand on the spot and POINTLESSLY spin my arms round and round in circles, believe me – it BURNS. I also had to punch those bags really hard, which is quite difficult if you’ve the upper body strength of a sparrow; still I was told to imagine the bag as someone I don’t like, so of course I chose any rival for his affections. In the end one training session was enough for me and I went back to water polo – the funny caps, wearing two swimming costumes in case of rips, the underwater pinching, the bitchiness and the scathing looks were such an incentive! I must be as much as a glutton for punishment as a glutton for salt, afterall. So I’m no sporting fiend but it’s all ok because amazingly we have an Olympic GOLD MEDAL in our family! That’s up there with winning an Oscar, or a Nobel prize, right? Ok, it’s kind of extended family, a couple of times removed but STILL FAMILY! Sadly though I missed the triumphant win, it was during Sydney and because we hadn’t received the email in time telling us to turn on the TV, instead by chance my sister and I came home from the pub drunk, turned on the TV, ate greasy snacks, watched the running and then before it was all over, switched off the TV and probably zoonked out in our beds straight away. What a tribute for us to pay to our olympian relative. Rubbish.

I’m going to aim for a Nobel, much less pain, no shin splints and I get to sit in my armchair whilst working and swell up on salt.