Wife's away until Sunday, so a naked Margherita pizza (she usually chucks some mushroom and red onion on it), but I don't fucking know where those things are 😅 Let alone to be arsed chopping them up.
Dogs are staring at me like Ron Mael, but they're on a diet. This is what I've eaten today:
7.00am - 7.30pm = nothing, except for three coffees.
7.30pm = one packet of Salt & Vinegar and one packet of Prawn Cocktail Walkers (the size that would fit in a 4 year-olds lunch box), whilst the pizza cooks.
7.37pm = Pizza Express pizza from Tesco (found it quite difficult to cut into 8 x 8'ths) without groaning with utter disappointment.
7.40pm = two Cadbury's Twirl Fingers (fuck me they are small aren't they) and a big girl diet size pack of Cadbury's fingers (approx 6 fingers about the size of a Spider Monkey's fingers).
I'm a quarter of bottle though a bottle of Malbec and the Doctor took my blood pressure this week. There's a chart - it goes; green, yellow, amber and red - I'm halfway up the red section 157 of those whatever you call them in the Hypertension section (pray for me, I'm hoping to retire at/before 60).
Doctor asked me to buy a blood pressure machine and do it four times a day, for a week, and drop my readings in. Sent me for full blood and prostrate work.
Fucking work posted some images of our 'Xmas team gathering' on LinkedIn, and I look like a cross between Ricky Gervais's Derek and that blonde bloke from the Flock of Seagulls. Haircut to chop the fringe off this morning. Another internal 'Hey Dickhead you're getting old' moment. What fucking picture do I take into the hairdressers now? Something with an Alamy watermark on it no doubt.
I'm rambling now.
I can't watch any fucking thing on TV that I'd like to watch, because "Don't watch that, we'll watch it together", so I've got lined up Toast of Tinsletown and that Mads Mikkelsen 'Another Round' movie.
She's just texted asking "How was the Pizza!".
FML
