I was woken up this morning by the posh bloke upstairs laughing like Frank Bruno (I’ve met the posh guy and it isn’t Frank Bruno, he is the wrong colour for a start). He does this every day at the same time, 8am in the morning!
What is he or his wife doing that is so funny at 8am in the fucking morning? Nothing is THAT funny at 8am in the morning.
Is someone sneaking into his flat and unleashing some Nitrous Oxide? Or maybe he wakes up to a stand-up comic telling him jokes instead of an alarm like the rest of us (well accept me, I get woken up by a stupid laughing man)? Maybe his job is so serious that he makes himself laugh in the mirror so that he gets it out of his system and doesn’t so much as giggle during the day? He might be a surgeon; you don’t want him giggling while he is digging about inside you.
My main goal today was to write. I have been slacking over the past several months and although I keep telling my stupid brain that this cannot continue I still do nothing to break out of the habit of watching TV or playing Football Manager 2011 instead of working.
I do have moments where my brain manages to resist the urge to make me fanny about online, and I manage to churn out a couple of articles but this is a very rare occurrence. Maybe once every couple of months.
Yesterday I managed to trick my stupid brain into writing five articles and today he has still not cottoned on because I have managed to write another three. Ha-ha! Take that you stupid brain. I am my own master and nobody can stop me!
What? A quick game of Football Manager 2011? What a great idea…