I'm a fighter not lover

Before I begin today I'd just like to set the record straight - in a recent post I said that Benji was a bit creapy. In reality I was joking; he is a bit creapy but I really do like him. He's my little sunshine and he makes me very happy (for those who don't know me, Benji is a dog - I'm not a homo).

My concern over this matter comes from the fact that he is currently recovering from an operation to remove a wart from his eyelid. It doesn't sound like a painful procedure but for a little dog who had to go under general anaesthetic it is quite an ordeal. When I came back from the gym today I had forgotten he was going to the vet's and was quite surprised to find him all wet and stitched up shaking on the couch. I spent most of the afternoon feeding him scrambled egg out of my hands.


As I said, before this I'd been to the gym with Si and Rich. Rich sadly cannot make my swan-song night out tomorrow (apparently 'swan-song' comes from the myth that a swan only makes a noise when it's dying; I've heard mixed reports on whether or not this fact is true. Only one way to find out...). This meant that our gym session together today was the last time I'll see him probably for at least three whole weeks. Sad times. After an exemplary session from all involved we had a manly, yet sweaty, embrace outside my house much to the confusion of the onlooking lollypop man who I speak to every morning. A bittersweet goodbye. (Speaking of Rich I've written this article 'Bodybuilding: More than just a Sport' in order to answer a debate we've been having).

The real excitement this week however was on Wednesday when I had my date with the girl from Bournemouth. I was quite nervous about this one to be honest, mostly because I hadn't met up with someone I met in a club for over a year and because almost every single one of my previous dates has gone disastrously wrong.
And I do mean disastrously. No exageration but over the last few years of my life my dates have ended up with me lost in a field, watching a girl puke off my balcony onto the balcony bellow, developing severe wind from a combination of rum from the Dom Rep and protein shake, sitting in a hot tub with the girl's ex and carrying the unconscious Dad upstairs to bed, in a first aid tent being advised to get stitches and being told that the girl once 'believed herself to be dead'. All those things actually happened and I've actually developed a reputation for going on dates that turn ridiculous.
Wednesday was going well though actually - although I managed to turn up late, smelling of chilly and slightly drunk (although fortunately she was later than I was) - and the conversasion flowed smoothly over some drink in the Brass House. I had planned to take her to see Step Brothers because that's what I wanted to see, but unfortunately I hadn't learned from my mistake only two weeks ago and didn't think to book on Orange Wednesday.
This meant the only thing we could see was Mamma Mia, which she'd already seen and I was ambivalent about (although for someone who mainly enjoys watching blokes beat the crap out of each other I do like the odd chick flick every now then). Randomly though when I asked for two tikets for Mamma Mia they seemed to instantly assume I wanted to see the sing along version that was also on at the same time. If I had wanted to see the sing along version I would probably have ordered tickets for the sing along version. Seriously you can't get the staff these days.
So we were completely unsuspecting, happily sharing our ridiculously over-sized and over-priced medium popcorn, when all of a sudden the lyrics came up on the screen and the entire middle-aged-female population of the cinema stood up and started singing and dancing. One old lady had even brought a microphone with her and was cheering on the crowd and swinging her arms in the air. During slow songs they were waving their arms from side to side - it was properly surreal, like one of those strange religious ceremonies in America.
We left having had a fairly enjoyable time, but a weird one. I'm not sure why I can't do anything normally.

Other than that I've been spending the last few days packing and writing essays and reports ready to take back to Uni. It's weird that I'm going so soon and it hasn't really sunk in yet. While I'm looking forward to it I'm also going to miss aspects of living at home. My Mum suprised me with some new clothes this evening which are pretty dashing on me if I say so myself and I'm looking forwards to strutting them around campus (I've just realised this is a pretty gay post... try to focus on the fact that I was on a date with a girl).

I also realise that I will now probably have to change the focus of this blog as 'follow Adam as he tries to survive in Leeds' probably isn't very representative of what's going on anymore. I need a focus, an angle. 'Follow Adam as he does random stuff for a year' doesn't really cut it. Maybe something like 'Follow Adam destroy of worlds, as he struggles for piece on Earth and a cure for cancer'. I don't know, I'm working on it.