Thursday, 30 January 2014

The Fat Lazy Shit Day.

I am sitting in bed and it's 32c outside.

I'm not ill, I am blessed with a pair of legs and I haven't even been working that hard (or at all, for that matter). I'm just having what I call a:


A FAT LAZY SHIT DAY is a day in which one has the ability to eat like a horse and do nothing but watch re-runs of terrible TV. It is necessary to have one of these days roughly once a fortnight.


Rule 1:  No one else should be present.

The thing about FAT LAZY SHIT DAY is that one can embrace all of the following: eating rubbish and feeling disgusting, smelling of bed, having shocking hair and occasionally even parping. In most social situations this is usually unacceptable, therefore the removal of other people is necessary for the up most enjoyment of said day.



Rule 2: One must attempt to move as little as possible for the entire duration of FAT LAZY SHIT DAY.

The day is not lazy if you are doing squat thrusts after each man-sized Mars bar. Only small movements to the mouth are required. I do suggest a small amount of effort to place pillows in the correct fashion around your body, but once this is in place and the 'FAT SHIT' is distributed around the pillows, no further movement should be necessary.

Exception to Rule 2:*

Sadly, when eating FAT SHIT and drinking even FATTER SHIT, one's body occasionally ruins FAT SHIT DAY by wanting to expel food in the forms of poo and wee wees.

This causes trauma to the individual involved in said day:





Suggestions: be as close to the bathroom as possible; find a friend who is in the medical profession to fit you a catheter. 

Rule 3: Stock up heavily prior to the occasion.

Adhere to your social calendar and work out when you have the capacity for a FAT LAZY SHIT DAY.

Once this has been done, make sure you are ready for the day by filling up your stocks of fizzy drinks, popcorn, chocolate, cheese, those weird sausages that are so full of pigs ears and arseholes that they look like anaemic fingers...


Thank you for reading. I hope you all have the knowledge for a positive experience on your next day of fat laziness.

Please enjoy FAT LAZY SHIT DAY responsibly.

Saturday, 25 January 2014

How to do the splits and Australian's riding sharks

So whilst I'm in the land of the beautiful (Australia) I have decided that I should no longer hold back my potential and have what is called a 'TALENT.'

You see at the moment, when I look at a guitar the strings just break, I sing like a hyena and dance like Prince Charles seducing Camilla after too many whisky and pineapples.


I have so often wondered what it would be like to be one of those talented people; picking up numerous instruments and being able to 'just jam a bit of Beethoven,' paint like Picasso or sing like Birdie.

Being in Australia does not help my lack of any talent either.      

You see Australian people have a tendency to do things like this: 

Vs me: 
Vs Me: 

Vs me: 

So as you can imagine, having no skills or talents comes as a minor set back. 

It started on New Years Eve.

I was drunk, yup, and had just seen an annoyingly fit person with no cellulite ANYWHERE do another perfect 'worm'.
This was the breaking point. I put my foot down, feeling my pale leg wiggle wobble as I did it and said:
'I'm gonna (hic) learn how to do the splits.' 

So after the hangover left me a few days later, I got straight on to YouTube.  

I was wearing my best, roomiest pjs and locked the door to my room -just incase I didn't look as elegant as I anticipated. 

 I did a few stretches that I learnt in yr. 8 P.E and simultaneously googled 'splits for beginners' - bendy and multi tasking. Easy. 

I click on one which looks utterly perfect - 'super easy splits for beginners :-) ' - the girl, 'PrincessBallerina1**<3' must be about 12, crazy talkative; American.

It starts off with her chilling on the floor, her legs crossed. I follow suit, hearing my knees crack only a little. 

Then this child shows the first 'beginner' move. 

Holy shit.

She is no longer cute or a child. She is a groin ruiner-er. She may as well have just come out of YouTube and kicked me in the hoo-ha repeatedly. 

After the six minute video I am currently one inch more bendy than I was and in roughly a million times more pain than when I woke up. 

And I walk all funny. 

But I will not be defeated by a child and her Barbie like groin. 

In three months I aim to be as bendy as a a Chinese gymnast who can eat coco pops from a bowl on her arse. 

Ill keep you informed.... 

Monday, 19 August 2013

Silks- the weird and awkward way to exercise.

A friend from work told me to try 'silks' this weekend in Birmingham. 

To begin with I was all like this... 
Then I was all like this. 
Dainty, sexy and all round lady like. 

Tuesday, 13 August 2013

The cat whisperer

Recently I had the interesting experience of being exposed to my boyfriend's mum's secret talent.

Before your mind goes wandering, it's nothing dirty, swingery or enough to give you nightmares. It's something quite erm... different.

I don't know whether you know this, but I'm pretty keen on cats. And so is she. So much so, that she has sort-of-gone-and-got-six of them.

But after years of knowing her, I have never realised the depth of the pure spiritual connection that she has with these animals.

She called me outside one muggy afternoon and said, 'Hey, look at this, Hannah'.

And I did.

She clapped loudly and called out 'WALKIES'.

Six cats, each one previously amusing themselves in various corners of the house with fake mice, licking themselves in an undignified manner and just plain sleeping, were instantly alert.

One by one they darted from their positions and slowly formed into a distinct line behind her.

She then opened the gate at the bottom of the garden and preceeded to 'walk them' around a path, all constantly in this line formation, like the pied piper of felines.

I tell you, I was in awe. My boyfriend was full of pride - which at the time looked a little like embarrassment and humiliation, but I'm sure it was pride.

No matter what I do, I cannot cause this effect with my two cats at home.

The cat whisperer is too talented for the likes of me.

Friday, 21 June 2013

French Woman Impersonates Daughter In Exam - EH?!

I've just read the news that a 52 year old french woman impersonated her daughter in an exam today.

My mum is 52. And trust me, although she is fantastic and beautiful, if she sat down in an exam hall  I think there would be a whole load of 'say whats' going down.

There are so many questions: 

When did they both sit down and say 'Y'know what would be a really, faultlessly good idea...?'

How did this woman even attempt to try and look like her daughter? Britney Spears-esque pony tails? Lolly pop? I love Justin Beiber T-shirt?

What kind of woman tries to be so young that it unnerves the world and forces people to want to call the police?

Too many questions, not enough sensible answers.

Zut alors!

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

The 30 Day Ab and Squat Challenge - What it's really like

So last time I complained about exercise, I was in the process of doing my half marathon. Which I did. Little 'wahoo' to me.


But instead of going back to my sofa, throwing popcorn in and around my face with no real direction to target, I have decided to do another stupid challenge.

I read an article on the 30 Day Squat Challenge, and then the 30 Day Abs Challenge. 

I'm now on Day 15. Today, I have to do a total of 70 sit ups, 90 crunches, 42 leg raises and a 60s plank. Oh, and 125 squats. 

And it's terrible. 

I mean, the sit ups are bad enough. 

When I begin, my hands are on the side of my head like the picture of the dead thin person on the crunch machine, and I'm breathing in a awesomely professional manner.

But as soon as I reach double figures, my body appears to move in ways I never even thought it could. It moves like a fish out of water, flapping and flopping about on the stupidly slippy mat.

I move from one end of the mat to the other so much so that I swear I have friction burn on my arse. And my perfectly poised hands? They go from doing nothing to literally pulling me up by feebly grasping my knees. 

The effects:

So nothing outrageous has happened so far. I still resemble the same person and my clothes are still the same fit.

But there are a few changes to my general well being. I now have no control over my entire stomach area. When I wake up in the morning I have to physically roll out of bed to prevent myself from actually sitting up.

When I cough, it is like Gandalf is slamming his stick into my stomach. And don't even get me started about the sheer horrendous effort it is to get in and out of sofas/cars/seats now.

I swear to god, if I can't wear one of those 'cropped tops' by the end of this I will be having SERIOUS words with whomever's damn idea this was.