21st Jan - My name is Jake, and I am a melt


My WingStop anticipation is still yet to be fulfilled... By the time I got there last night, they'd closed for the evening. Alas, it's one to tick off the bucket list, I guess. Talking of bucket lists, I took my Mum to her first ever 'big' football match last night (she'd previously gone to 'The Manor' in Oxford 20/30 years ago, but the capacity was less than 10,000). Our relationship has endured a somewhat rollercoaster-esque nature over the years, but we're at something of a peak these days, and it was special to show her something so dear to my heart. Not just the match itself (we lost), but the entire match-day experience, from the smell of the food and the chants of the crowd walking up the road towards the stadium, and the army of red-and-white striped scarves. 




Tonight, my attention turns to one of those 'cosy' nights, that couples tend to find themselves in fairly regularly during the Winter months. In my own household, 'The Apprentice' is a programme we agree to never watch without the other - (Ever logged into Netflix and seen the 'watched' progress bar halfway through a series you promised to binge together?! Ohh the absolute heartbreak!) - and so I'm keen to witness the latest antics of Lord Sugar's latest group of turds. That latter choice of wording is somewhat particular, as you've seen any of this latest series, you'll have realised the boys have a strangely pathological yet subconscious fixation with anything resembling the colour of shite.

Talking of shite - stay calm Tottenham fans, I'm not about to mention your club - my Timehop is a regular reminder of what a little shit-house I used to be. I look back on many of my Tweets and feel like they were written by somebody else. The latest offering served up to me this morning informed of how, two years ago today, I warned my fellow males: "If she asks 'so what are you looking for?', run! Because it means she wants a relationship." Fast forward to 2021 and I'm about to embark on a pulled chicken chilli con carne in the slow-cooker, whilst getting moist panties over the fact Ozark season 4 premieres tonight. I was always the first to label these sorts of lads with some kind of insulting label, usually 'melt'. So now, as I watch myself from afar like a weird out-of-body experience, and notice that I'm melting, it's time for my confession...



... My name is Jake. And I am a melt. 


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