I apologise for yesterday’s post.
You see, we were getting new internet connection in our house, which is more capable to handle wireless (512k split between 3? No thanks). I rang up BT and they said “no problem! Go ahead and cancel Tesco.net, we’ll be set up by Friday.”. Ever the pessimist, I thought “okay, we’ll be online on Friday, not a day sooner. Now, how to tell you, my 100 million readers.”
See, I’ve been meaning to get Tom back, as he’s labelled me “the world’s most gullible bastard”. He has the ability of coming out with facts that maybe, just maybe be true. Things like “You know Johnny Cash is origionally from Liverpool, that’s why Liverpool use ‘Ring of Fire’ as one of their songs.” and “You know that Ricky Gervais’ real last name is Hatton, but they didn’t want to confuse it with the boxer?” subtly inserted into the conversation. He waits for me to go “Really?” before he shoots me down with a “fuck know, you big gullible bastard!”. So, I used my time offline to come up with a plan.
I would announce on my blog that I’d be going into the Big Brother house on Thursday. It seemed reasonable. Not many people talk about it, do they? Not something you’d announce, except on small community pages such as this.
As I sat down to a day of work, I thought it could go either one of two ways. Number one was that everybody would fall for it hook, line and sinker, and then either be pissed off or say “oh ho ho, you” when I come out of my internet slumber. The second way would be that people would dismiss it as a joke and be confused. I could just picture Tom sitting in his room and saying “fuck off Rhys, nobody would want you in the Big Brother house!” in his gruff, Nottinghamshire accent.
I would look forward to Friday. Except, when I returned from work, we had brand spanking new internet, and I can’t live without the internet for 3 hours, let alone 3 days. So this is my humbling “sorry!” post.
Right, onto more important things.
Today, I am going swimming. It’s part of my “lets get Rhys healthy, to avoid the hospital, plus I wouldn’t mind having a nice chest that ladies can swoon over.”, since returning to Colwyn Bay full stop, I’ve managed to eat a lot better. But the food’s been a lot nicer, so whilst not limiting myself to a couple of slices of stodgy pizza and a few chips, I’ve been eating three times my bodyweight in asparagus. Would be so funny if it wasn’t so sad. So, I’m off to swim in the chlorine and old people piss pool that is Colwyn Bay’s swimming pool.