Regrets...

This rowing lark is really fucking horrific. 3 outings per week- 2 7pm ones and 1 7 am one. The fuckers have now added a Saturday morning session too. Just because the rest of the crew don't have lives to speak of, does that mean I should allow them to erode my packed social calendar? Does it? No it fucking doesn't.

Not only do I spend too much time in a boat, but my crew is ugly. I don't just mean mildly unattractive, I mean really fucking ugly. Why is it that the people who should least wear lycra are the ones that wear it? It's like some sick joke the rowing gods are playing on me. When I rowed in Cambridge, I had a semi the whole time. Here, my nuts have ascended so far into my body, I haven't seen them in weeks.

That was clearly a lie. This morning, I gave my boys a good going over in the name of a testicular self-examination. I haven't had that much fun since my last testicular self-examination. I rock.

The weather is pissing me off.

Currently looking: rather dashing in jeans, shirt, tie, supercilious expression and FLIP-FLOPS.

Currently listening to: A Minha Menina by The Bees.