Sleep work gym sleep work gym blog sleep

Wednesday = 12 hour day
Thursday = 12 hour day
Tomorrow = 12 hour day (at least)

Schedule
7.00am: Wake-up (I am NOT a morning person.) Struggle to work sharing Tube with builders / people who stink of booze. Or both.
7.30am: Work, work, work, work, work, work, work.
8.00pm: Leave work and then gym
10.00pm: Home and then bed, repeat...

And in amongst all of this, all I want is a big, fat, juicy, luscious pizza.

However, that's going to happen on Monday which is now designated carbs day. I want the biggest fucken pizza that Pizza Express can do. I want the fucking motherload.

The only amusement in my life at the moment is the gym. That's how small things have become.

On that subject there are three developments...

My horny Hungarian porno-pup who is big, pumped and a "power bottom", as depicted:

Has started to bring a really hot friend with him.

What we know of the friend:

1. He is hot.
2. He is quite young
3. He dresses like a straight
4. He is hot
5. Er, that's it

I have to find out who this guy is, obviously.

Hungarian pornoboy has been doing legs and I cannot tell you how massive they are. What with him and his legs and his very fit mate, I am finding it difficult to concentrate.

Next bit of information - and this is going to sound very patronising but...

There's a rather overweight guy who I always see "working out" (stomping on the treadmill trying to peel off the pounds).

In fact, there are two rather overweight guys who've been working out, separately, for quite some time.

The one has been at the gym longer than the other but they both are quite large and obviously enjoy their Pizza Express pizzas more than once a week.

I had never quite guessed it but now it makes total sense.

Tonight in the Sainsbury's I saw both of them walking around together. Holding hands.

All together now: Aaaaah!

Rather ironically it seems that they have hooked up together thanks to the gym.

In a delicious twist it seems that the two guys who needed it the most but use it the least have found what the rest of us slaves are hoping to find there every night (i.e. a guy to steal our hearts and climb into our running shorts.)

Albeit a rather large pair of running shorts. (Sorry, unnecessary and bitchy comment - I'm just jealous...)

Anyway, the third thing about the gym is that...

I can't remember actually.

Listen, do you mind if I go to bed?

I need to get back that the monotony of routine as detailed at the beginning of this post. That means go to bed, work, gym, go to bed.

My eyelids are becoming heavy and I need to pack my gym bag and brush my