Tagged: Miserable

Lockdown life has become a bit of a struggle at times. I’m now back to my usual cheerful, jokey self and have been for 10 days or so, but I had a good couple of weeks before that where I was consistently really fucking miserable. I didn’t understand at first why I’d become so unhappy the last few weeks. It would have made sense at the start of lockdown, but why late May/early June when freedoms were slowly being granted? Normally in life I am happy most days, at least in the last few years since discovering purpose to life …

Ahhh I should be sat in a beer garden right now, sun-kissed, slightly drunk, wondering if the Met line will develop a signal failure and a tinge of annoyance from yet another average roast dinner. Yet my complaints are trivial. People have lost their lives. People have lost love ones. People have lost jobs. People will lose their jobs once furlough expires. And we will all have a host of problems from the upcoming economic crisis. I could say that I am lucky – I am in some respects though with respects to my job, I chose my career change …

Well that was a crappy little day. I woke up late, and tired.  Drinking Red Bull and eating shit food from the off. I’ve said it before, but being fat is the one thing guaranteed to make me miserable, and putting on weight when eating healthy and doing some exercise like I did at the weekend has triggered me off on a run of eating lots of shit – approx 4,000 calories a day.  As opposed to 1,500 a day last week when I was happy…or a least content. So, of course I’ve put even more weight on and am …

I sometimes worry about writing blog posts expressing negativity as I don’t want to be seem as that grumpy, miserable, depressing bastard to avoid. However I have checked the last 20 posts and I reckon you could only count 3 of them as at least semi-miserable.  The 20 prior, I don’t think any of them are miserable.  And if you include all my music, politics, football and roast dinner blogs, then you are looking at roughly 1 in 2-300 that have espouse negative emotions (do shit roast dinners count?). Writing when I am fucked off is quite cathartic.  And I …

I hadn’t forgotten the psychology of unemployment but maybe I had underestimated it – until now I had been generally as positive as normal.  I’m not one of those impossibly-happy types but generally I am positive about myself, the world – bar the odd moan or ten, especially about Brexit. It’s easy to sit here and criticise the unemployed, and there sure is a fair-sized collective of scumbags who simply don’t want to work.  I’m sure I could get A job tomorrow if I was not bothered about what I wanted to do. Maybe I am simply being a bit …

Yesterday I was a miserable bastard. I don’t being a miserable bastard. So I initiated Operation Don’tbeafuckingmiserablecunt. First up was a shopping spree:   Then a quiet beer: Then I treat my tastebuds to some absolute beauty: Then I wrote to Happy Socks to tell them that I wasn’t happy:   Am I any less miserable?  A bit.  But then I realised…whoa!   Finally, I promised you some tits.  As I am still not totally un-miserable, I enclose just one nipple: Oh, you were expecting a sexy lady, weren’t you?   ps It isn’t me.  I’m not that fat. But …