The Obesity Bomb

After some time waiting I got back the first mark for the distance part of my current study and got a pass. I'm still not sure how this happened but I'll take it. I probably should be putting in more effort than I currently am, but given that I'm doing the course as a hoop-jumping exercise for my current employers I promised myself I wouldn't let this completely consume my life - something that all previous participants in the course insist happens. So I'm trying to maintain a bit of self in the midst of this chaos. Unfortunately I don't have holidays again until September and I'm already beginning to feel the need for a few days off. Fortunately my life in Singapore seems to move in the opposite of dog years (cat years?) i.e. long stretches of time move remarkably quickly.

A friend called tonight to see how I was doing and he laughed hysterically when I told him I was sitting on the couch watching a film about cheerleaders (Bring It On : All or Nothing for those keeping score). It made me think... am I now too old to be watching movies about cheerleaders? The answer is, probably... yes. Since before I was a teenager I enjoyed movies about teenagers (Teen Wolf, Breakfast Club etc) and I guess I have a certain nostalgia for that film genre. It's only when you tell someone that has no fondness for the genre that you're watching it that the ludicrousness of it all actually comes into focus. Ultimately I guess I'm just killing time. Living by one's self does that to you.

I love the freedom of living by myself. All my idiosyncrasies are on display and unable to annoy anyone. Although I did look in my fridge yesterday and get the shock of my life. My fridge contained :

- all the ingredients for making tacos (I had friends coming for lunch)
- two apples
- two bottles of soft drink
- a can of green tea
- a bag of Freddo Frogs
- cheese slices
- eggs
- soy sauce
- chilli sauce
- tomato sauce
- frozen hamburgers
- frozen vegetables
- icy poles
- a bottle of Vodka
- 4 cans of beer

If you try unbelievably hard you can make a meal with those things. Or at least some kind of obesity bomb. I really am like a bachelor from a bad American sitcom. So yes, I've turned into a cliche. The only part that actually disturbs me about all this is that if it goes on too long I will at some point become so set in my ways that I will be unable to live with anything other than cats ever again. No problem with the cat part, just a little concern about the vision of me at 45 with 8 housecats, 5 outdoor cats and the occasional stray all hunkering down for a meal together each night in liu of any actual proper human contact.

At least if that happens I'll get my own theme music.

Da na nana na na na Da na nana na na naaaaaa... Cat-Man! Cat-man! Cat-Maaaaaaaaaan!