Sunday 19/08

It is Saturday and I wake up vaguely remembering what happened yesterday. I seem to remember drinking 1/4 bottle of Rioja, 1 Kopparberg, and then 1 bottle of awful rosé (Echo Falls) at Label on Deansgate. Then at 3am I was awaken by a telephone call—it was my flamate, and the first thing he said was, "Hi, are you sleeping? I'm drunk". A few minutes later my flatmate and a few of his friends stumbled into the flat, and I heard the most random statement ever, "I couldn't fuck her, she had massive tits but it was so cold and if only I was sober I would be able to".

Anyway, I am wearing a striped Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt, Abercrombie & Fitch Jeans (low cut) and Fred Perry trainers and with this outfit, I go to the gym. I meet Graeme at the gym, I think the time is 1200 but I'm not sure. Graeme's my new gym buddy and he's signed up just because I am there despite it being a shit gym (I'm at that gym because it's cheap).

And here I am at the gym, and I'm thinking, this is far too early for any exercise. My head is still pounding and I feel I could do with more sleep. Yesterday at dinner, Graeme, Simon, Hannah (Simon's girlfriend), Ryan (Graeme's flatmate who's really fit but a complete cock), Sam, and I went to this underwhelmingly shitty restaurant in the Northern Quarter. I'm normally not a fan of pizza, but everyone urged me to try their pizzas because they are amazing. Unwilling to argue—but quite possibly I was agreeable last night because of the alcohol in me—I agreed and went ahead and ordered the margarita. It was absolutely awful and the base was either stale or undercooked. I sent it back and demanded a better pizza. I got it in the end, but at what cost? My stomach's aching today.

Graeme and I start doing chest, and for this we do: bench press (I managed 80kg), incline flys (24kg), incline presses (26kg), flat flys (24kg), decline cable flys (22kg), machine flys (62kg), and cable flys (20kg).

Once we finish at the gym we both decide to get some lunch, and we find this restaurant that serves Thai food, and the waitress who looks like she is 16 comes around and asks (in a strange sing-song accent), "What would you like to order?"

"What is good?", I say to her.

"Everything", comes the unhelpful reply. This irritates me slightly, and I seriously consider whether I should leave a tip, but this is usually futile anyway as I never leave a tip. Stupid bitch, I mutter under my breath.

The next few minutes I ponder upon the menu, and then I order a Beef Red Curry and Graeme has the sweet sour chicken. As I tuck into my food, I suddenly realise that I prefer his dish, but as they say, the grass is always greener innit.

...

I am no longer feeling the symptoms of depression, perhaps partly because of my anti-depressants, but quite possibly—and I am hoping that it is—because my circumstances have changed. I've recently been offered a graduate role at ____. No words can describe how happy and ecstatic I felt; it's the same feeling as when I found out I had an upper second class degree. I beat all odds to get this job; I also beat all odds to get an upper second class (I was expecting a lower second class).

And this job offer came on the day I got fired from my job at this bank where I work (for reasons which I will not get into, but which I think are completely unjustified).

I can't wait.