No bullshit, no excuses, no explaining. Just do better. It’s simple. It also explains the shortness of the particular post. See below.

I must do better. I’m behind the clock. I’m below target. Efforts must be increased. For this and the next few weeks I am just going to do better. Willpower. Exercise. All that shit. No excuses. Just watch me go.

I’m serious now.

On a less serious note, here are some search engine terms that brought people to spacemonkeygaz.com this week:

• pat sharp funhouse (several times)
• motorbike accident (ditto.  I am apparently not popular in the motorbiking community)
• when will jedward’s debut single be rele
• jedward the musical (hahahahaha)
• self serving charity single
• fuck haiti cowell record
• girls top falls off
• “roasting a female”

(this is what I found when I Googled "roasting a female")

A word to the wise: for productivity reasons, never Google any phrase containing the word "boobs" if you want to get anything done, ever.

This was last Wednesday and it did, if nothing else, motivate me to persevere with the weight loss/getting fit thing.  I decided I’d prove him wrong.  And I’m slowly getting there.  Friday’s Boots weigh-in came and went, and if you cast your mind back to this blog post you may recall that I promised I’d get the black progress line back below the white target line.  If you can’t remember then to be honest I think you really need to pay more attention.  But I digress.  And for once I’ve made good on a promise, see:

Some stats for all you stats-freaks:

• since Jan 4^th I have lost 7.5lbs
• this is over half a stone
• I am a still-massive 18st 5lbs
• this is 3lbs lighter than the Friday before
• I did have my haircut in this week in fairness
• I am ahead of my target.
• Completely hypothetically-speaking, is it wrong to find the following picture arousing?

• I’m just asking like.

The astute among you may notice two lines in the above chart.  The black line represents my weight.  The white line represents a straight line that — on the full graph, only a snippet of which I’ve included above — runs from my starting weight of 120.2kg to my target weight of 108kg on April 9th.  You may also note that the black line is higher than the white line.  This means I’m behind my target.  And I’ve no-one to blame but myself.  Well, I could arguably blame the girl next to me at work who, whilst cold on Wednesday, made the (bizarre, when you think about it) announcement that the only thing keeping her warm was eating biscuits.  I said, “I’ll go and buy some more biscuits at lunch then,” and returned later with four packets of biscuits.  Jam and Custard Jammy Dodgers (disappointing), Pink Wafers (retro), Chocolate and Hazelnut Cookies (indulgent), and the aforementioned Chocolate Hob Nobs (classic).  I then proceeded over the course of the remainder of this working week to eat about half of them.

What's the point putting a copyright watermark in a picture of some fucking pink wafers?

In my last blog I think I might have foolishly said I was going to come up with sort of routine.  I haven’t, unsurprisingly.  But I might do.  I probably won’t though.  Although I should, really.  I have some weights gathering dust on the bedroom floor (although technically they stop my guitar falling over; they’re not just gathering dust), so I should probably put them to use.  I’m going to try a short, gentle jog in the next week or so, and see how the knee holds up, so watch this space for another predictable blog about me shitting up my knee.  Every day this week I’ve been for a short(ish) walk at lunchtime, so fingers crossed the knee is getting a bit stronger.

So, not a lot of progress on the dieting front, but I’ll be good this week, I swear.  By next Friday I’ll make sure the black line is below the white line.  It make shock you to learn that I’ve done a bit more writing on the novel, and I think I’ve closed an annoying and problematic plot-hole.  I just need to get into a routine of writing an hour or so a day, I think.  325 days to go until my thirtieth birthday deadline.

I’ll sign off, for no real reason, with a picture of Gemma Atkinson.  

I could take her or leave her, me.

.