My GOD I’m feeling rather manly at the moment. I impersonated a marathon runner today by sweating out a 14km run at the gym followed by beers and writing work, looking all like a Poundland version of Ernest Hemingway. Man i feel like i was born to run, to commune with the animals in the wild, to eat raw flesh and taste the blood in my mouth.
But in reality what this means is that I’m probably going to watch some Eurovision trash with Mrs Sex Farm later on tonight. will Magni FINALLY realise his destiny at being the most rocking contestant ever to reach the finals? Or will horse face lady who like wearing togas and playing the violin steal the day? Who know? Who ares?
But I’ve been a good boy of late. Now is the time to not be a good boy. So maybe afterwards, i should go out and taste the salty nightlife that Reykjavik thinks it can offer me….