Over the last month or so I've turned into a right calorie counting, fat-weighing fag. My eating habits have improved so much, but at the risk of me being killed by the next person who hears me moan about how much salt is in my BLT.
I haven't been drinking much recently either. Alcohol is empty calories, you see. Swinkle knows these things. Tonight however, is different. Tonight I'm up late playing DJ Hero and sinking a few beers to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.
Cinco de Mayo, for those not in the know, is a Mexican national holiday, which is based on an unlikely victory of the Mexican army in some century too long ago to matter. But for the rest of us it's just a fairly obscure excuse to drink and party with anyone else who may know what it means. It's like Mexico's very own St Patrick's Day.
Tonight Hayley and I went to see Iron Man 2. It was ok, not as good as the first one. That's about as much of a review as you'll get out of me.
Then we went to Sainsburys for some stuff, and to hang out at the Nissan Micra party in the car park that we'd said we'd go to.
While there we bought posh new teaspoons. The reason for this is mainly bercause we ran out of teaspoons. But the reason we specifically bought the expensive ones is because apparently I'm old now. You see, there's a certain stage in your developing maturity, where you're no longer happy to have Sainsbury's basics, Tesco value and ASDA price in your house. So now I have posh spoons and I feel like an adult.
Now I'm going to go and moan about the weather and how it was always better in my day, and to bore the young'uns with stories about how, when I was a lad, I used to have to walk 15 miles to work at the pit, carrying a donkey on my back.
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